


Good Lesson

by iGoToExtremes, written_you_down



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, NYC!teacher AU, daniel all about the mythology smith, kyle old sport j simmons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28719858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iGoToExtremes/pseuds/iGoToExtremes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/written_you_down/pseuds/written_you_down
Summary: This, THIS was why Dan preferred his books to anything else. They didn’t have hands, or twinkly dark eyes.***Chapter 5 had some formatting issues when we first posted but they’ve now been fixed!***
Relationships: Kyle Simmons/Dan Smith
Comments: 81
Kudos: 54





	1. Orientation

Dan was lost.

Not lost in the metaphorical sense, mind you, but honest to God _lost_ , Odysseus-wandering-the-seas-for-a-decade-lost. 

In his very weak defense, it was his first attempt navigating the hallways of the school on his own. Previously, the deputy headmaster had been at his elbow serving as Dan’s personal guide to Morningside Progressive Academy. At the time, it all seemed laughably simple: the library was just over there, Dan’s classroom ‘round the corner and to the left of that. 

In his subsequent trips to campus to put his classroom in order, Dan had managed well enough. It was only today, when a turn of his stomach reminded him of lunch, that he ventured out into lands uncharted. He glanced at his hand that grasped the pack of bizarrely neon orange sandwich crackers he’d successfully wrestled from a vending machine, and then down the halls again. The freshly waxed floor on which he currently stood exactly matched the one outside of his room.

He hadn’t the bloodiest idea where he was. 

Taking solace in the snack that eliminated starvation from the list of his most immediate concerns, he began to search for a sign. Surely, if he thought this through logically, something would come to him. He was a teacher, for fuck’s sake, if he couldn’t guide himself to and from his classroom, how was he to expect students to place any semblance of faith in him?

He waited and his patience was rewarded with an embarrassingly loud grumble from his stomach that echoed off of the empty halls. Mentally cursing his brain, his stomach and every part of his body for being completely useless, Dan decided to turn left. He saw someone, another instructor perhaps, disappear into a classroom. Common sense told him that he could easily duck his head into one of the many rooms of the hallway and find another teacher, someone who could tell him the way. While Dan was not a particularly proud person, he couldn’t bring himself to admit defeat this early on, to expose his complete lack of direction to a colleague. With renewed purpose, he continued along the hall.

A handful of steps later, he heard music. 

And well, surely that was some sort of sign. 

It was a bit faint, but he followed, convinced it was a trail that would lead him to where he was supposed to be.

Whomever it was knew exactly what they were doing. The notes from the piano sounded sure; there was no hesitation from one bar to the next. It was practiced, measured and _beautiful._ The music felt like a series of waves, ebbing him along and gently drawing him to their source.

The chords led him to yet another door and peering in, he found that it was a music room. The melody continued, but it no longer tugged at him, deciding instead to wrap around him in a warm embrace. 

He scanned the room and his eyes landed on the back of a tall bloke who sat at a piano bench, creating the music that had cast its net around Dan. 

So this was his siren.

Engrossed in his song, he seemed unaware of Dan. Dan used the opportunity to observe his surroundings undetected. The music teacher (for that was what Dan supposed him to be, even sirens had to make a living one way or another) was slim in stature and with hair even darker than Dan’s. Dan was envious of how effortlessly and yet still somehow fucking cool this lad’s hair was; he winced recalling the state of his own, even though he had made an attempt to style it that morning. 

As the bloke moved to his right to reach for a key, Dan caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his forearm. And what the fuck, even that was cool— it looked like a bloody piece of art, not a hastily made late night decision. 

The Tattooed Pianist Siren played on and Dan knew that he needed to make his presence known. His staring was fast becoming borderline stalking, but for the life of him, Dan couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

In the week he had been in the city, acclimating to his new surroundings, to his new time zone, he had only spoken to a handful of people. He’d made polite conversation to a few folks at the bodega, people who were like him—not perfectly composed composers. Dan frowned. The absolute lameness of his clumsily worded thought was all the evidence he needed to prove that he had no business speaking to anyone just now.

He allowed himself one final gaze, one last moment to listen to the music before turning to fumble his way back through the labyrinth of the hallways and his mind.

\--- 

Dan was embarrassed to admit just how long he had wandered about the school. It had taken Odysseus ten years to return to Ithaca, and Dan just a shade under that to locate his classroom. In that moment, he knew he would forever refer to this room as Ithaca. He wondered if the other instructors had already found names for their rooms, and then immediately knew he should absolutely keep the Ithaca nickname from them.

He wasn’t sure that he would have anything in common with the others. Aside from the administrator who’d given him the tour, and the shadowy figure in the hallway, Tattooed Pianist Siren was the first one he’d seen. And that bloke was clearly from an entirely different realm than Dan. 

Knowing that no good had ever come from dwelling on things that he had no control over, Dan walked over to a box he had yet to unpack. He had purposefully saved it to open last. He grabbed a pair of shiny, newly purchased scissors (that he would likely lose within the first month of classes) sliced through the tape and pulled at the cardboard flaps. 

Before him were stacks of untouched, unblemished, glossy, beautiful _books_. 

Dan reached in and carefully lifted one from the top of the pile. He handled it as if it were a rare, out of print, impossible to find first edition instead of the mass market endlessly published paperback that it actually was.

He gave the door a quick glance to ensure he was alone, then opened the book and brought it close to his face. He leaned in, his nose not quite touching the pages, and took a deep breath. 

Holy fuck, there was no smell he liked more than that of a freshly bound book. The scent of freshly printed paper gave him a buzz that was even better than a pint after a long day. 

Dan closed the book and then reached into the box to grab a handful of the others. He carried them to a shelf and began to arrange them. It took several trips to move the lot of them, but soon they were displayed in a tidy row, their spines gleaming in the fluorescent lighting. He grinned at all of the copies of The Great Gatsby— perfectly aligned, patiently waiting for someone to pick them up and read their story.

While Dan lived for the smell of new pages like some sort of book-junkie, he loved the way the pages looked when they began to fill with notes from the reader. He could picture them in the hands of his students and knew the books would soon have creased spines and dog eared corners. There was something indescribable about reading a text, taking a pen to it and making it one’s own. Dan’s battered copy of Gatsby sat on his desk, filled to the brim with his scribbles. 

God, he couldn’t wait for classes to begin. 

He fished his phone from his pocket. Stepping back to capture as much of his classroom as he could fit in the frame, he took a picture. Satisfied that it was the best he could manage, he sent it to his best mate back home, Ralph, with the caption: **my Ithaca**.

It was only then that Dan paused to do the time zone maths. Fortunately, It wasn’t so late that it would disrupt Ralph. 

A moment passed and he had Ralph’s reply: **looks brilliant, but are you back on your fixation with the Greeks again? not sure I can handle any more of Pompeii**

Dan snorted in amusement and typed **you’re welcome for the history lesson**. 

He watched as Ralph immediately answered and waited for what seemed to be a lengthy answer. Dan’s patience was rewarded with: **don’t think a poem about zombie corpses having a sit down about a volcano that wiped out their city qualifies as a history lesson**

Dan could almost hear Ralph’s voice as he read the text. He knew that Ralph was only having a slight go at him. To be fair, Pompeii _was_ one of Dan’s strangest poems. After learning of the natural disaster that had destroyed the city, Dan hadn’t been able to stop thinking of it. He couldn’t erase the image of the negative spaces discovered years later that had been left by the people who perished in the ancient eruption. He kept wondering what sorts of conversations they might have had with one another and unable to rid his mind of the idea, he had written it down. 

It was a bit weird, more than a little twisted and Ralph was the only one who had read it. Dan remembered sliding his notebook across the table and anxiously holding his breath for Ralph’s reaction. 

Ralph had looked up with a wide grin and declared it to be brilliant. 

It wasn’t brilliant, obviously, but it wasn’t rubbish, either. That was more than enough for Dan. He didn’t write because he needed praise or feedback, he wrote because he _had_ to. There were endless amounts of words bouncing about his brain and while he struggled at times to articulate them verbally, he could always write them. 

Ralph understood that, understood _him_.

Consequently, Dan was comfortable sharing his poetry with Ralph, no matter how bizarre the work sometimes was. 

Dan smiled as he looked down to add **don’t be daft. They weren’t zombies**

Then he put his phone back in his pocket and admired the bookshelf again. 

“Looks like you’re settling in quite nicely.”

He turned around to find an older woman meaningfully taking in the walls of his classroom. She was tan, her hair short and dark, save for one patch that was a dull silver. 

“Oh uh, yes... Dr. Acevedo?” He recognized the school’s headmaster – _principal_ , he mentally corrected himself – from their Zoom calls, but it came out as a question anyway. 

“Please, Daniel, call me Sue; even the students do.” She smiled warmly.

“Yes, of course. Just takes some getting used to, I guess,” he explained, recalling the section of his teacher handbook on how the school sought to establish more meaningful relationships by avoiding unnecessary formality. “And in that case, call me Dan.”

She nodded in agreement. “You’re finding everything all right? Anything I can help with so far?”

He thought for what felt like an appropriate moment but, unable to muster any concerns, shook his head. “None right now, thanks. In any case it’s good to finally meet you in person, get settled, all that.”

She glanced back at the books. “You’re particularly excited about Gatsby? That was always one of my favorites to teach.”

“It’ll be my first time, actually. Might be why I’m so eager, since I’ve always enjoyed reading it.” He felt himself blushing a little.

“The kids’ll pick up on that enthusiasm for sure. It also doesn’t hurt that there’s a bit of local interest, with the story taking place on Long Island,” she went on. “How did you feel about that field trip idea? You saw the email?”

Dan’s face lit up at the reminder. “Yes! It sounds great, obviously.”

“As I said, we sometimes make it a joint trip with other classes - namely music and history, if those teachers are able to coordinate their lessons accordingly. But we both know which subject runs the show here.” 

He chuckled, adding “yeah” in agreement while Sue grinned.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” she sighed. “We’’ll have a brief meeting for the visiting faculty tomorrow, so you can all get acquainted. I’ll send an email shortly with the exact time and location.” 

Dan nodded. “Sounds great, yes.”

Sue turned toward the door. “Very glad to have you. If anything comes up, my door is always open.” 

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, waving as she left. 

With a renewed sense of purpose, he sat at his desk to review the Gatsby lesson plans again.

\--- 

Another hour or so later, backpack secured over one shoulder, Dan plodded down the front steps of the school building and out onto the sidewalk. The hazy late-summer sun flickered through the leafy trees, completely still in the absence of anything resembling a breeze. 

He really wasn’t prepared for how bloody humid it was in this city. The start of the school year was firmly associated with denim jackets and long trousers, not sweating through a polo shirt after walking half a block.

Turning onto Broadway, Dan passed the now familiar chain restaurants, miscellaneous other shops, and numerous buildings of Columbia University. A steady stream of buses, yellow taxis, and other vehicles inched along on the busy street, the dull roar of their engines, brakes, and the occasional honk providing a certain ambience unique to New York City. The pedestrian traffic consisted of mostly uni students, undoubtedly bustling about setting up their dorm rooms and buying books and finalizing class schedules before classes started. It made him nostalgic for his own uni experience, even as he tried to appreciate the present moment and the exciting opportunity in his immediate future. 

In what felt like no time at all he turned left onto West 115th Street, leaving the noise and traffic of the avenue behind in favor of another one-way, tree-lined residential road. For now he intended to go straight home, but he resolved to take another proper walk in the evening, when it wasn’t quite so hot, to continue familiarizing himself with the neighborhood beyond merely the route between his flat and the school. 

His building was a few doors down from the next corner, where the quiet street intersected Riverside Drive. Shuffling down along the small paved walkway, he unlocked first the outer metal gate door and then the regular inner front door, careful to lock both behind him once he was inside. 

Dan’s little flat was on the top floor of the building, easily accessible by four flights of stairs. As with everything else about his new life, he was slowly getting used to it, the environs gradually feeling more like home and less like stepping outside of himself to live someone else’s life. 

Unlocking the door granted him the decidedly unpleasant experience of stepping into the stuffy hot air, and he quickly dashed over to the window to crank the air-con. The unit was old as dirt, left behind by the prior tenant, and he didn’t even want to _think_ about how much electricity it used, but the heat rendered its use absolutely necessary. 

Taking off his glasses, he used the back of his hand to wipe some of the sweat from his face. Then, grateful that the cool air had started flowing pretty quickly, he took stock of the flat. 

His small futon couch and bed were set up, having been brought up and assembled the day before by the very capable delivery guys, who he tipped generously. Still in their boxes were a nightstand, coffee table, and a horde of small housewares. 

Looking at the clock, he decided that he had enough time to assemble the nightstand before rewarding himself with that neighborhood walk, which would inevitably conclude with a visit to a bookstore and stop for takeaway dinner. 

_And a shower_ , he thought as he considered his plan to head back out into the humidity. _Definitely a shower._

********  
The next day, Dan busied himself in his classroom before the orientation meeting for new teachers. When the time came, he made his way down to the small seminar room Sue had noted in her email, grateful to find that it was open and he wasn’t the first one there. 

Seated at one end of the conference table was a lithe woman with short bobbed raspberry-red hair, wearing large dangly earrings and a flowy black dress. Toward the middle of the opposite side of the table he saw a bloke dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a football jersey, a backwards baseball cap atop a mess of light-brown waves. 

“ ‘Ello, mate,” Backwards Hat offered with an unmistakable West Country accent. 

“Uh, hey there,” Dan said, shyly, to both of them. The other British lad returned a smile of recognition at the sound of his own accent, while the woman merely nodded once, slowly, to acknowledge the greeting. 

The three of them sat idly for a few minutes. Backwards Hat read from a book about rugby while the woman casually sketched something on a pad. Having not brought anything else for his own time-killing amusement, Dan glanced at his phone. He had a text from his sister – a link to a psychology article about fostering creativity in teenagers, which he started to read. 

A moment later, another woman entered the room. She was rather petite and appeared to be of East Asian background, with round wire-rimmed glasses and her hair pulled back in a sensible bun. 

“Hello,” she greeted them quietly, then sat gingerly in the empty seat next to - he assumed - the art teacher. 

Then, the sound of increasingly-loud chatter filled the adjacent hallway, buoyed by a rather deep, Cockney-laced voice. 

“It’s no trouble at all, I promise.” With that, a tall man with dark wavy hair walked through the doorway alongside Sue, carrying a large crate. 

When he set it down on the table, Dan’s eyes lasered in on the tattoo on the man’s arm. 

It was _him_.

He was even more striking when viewed from the front. Dan tried to remember how to breathe normally. 

Meanwhile, Sue was addressing them. “...I’ve obviously had the pleasure of meeting you all individually, but we always get the visiting faculty members together before the year starts,” she explained while unpacking the contents of the crate, namely some fancy bottles of water and a few small trays of snacks. “So, don’t be shy, we’ll set up some snacks then get on with some introductions.” 

She handed Tattooed Pianist Siren a tray of cookies, indicating that he should help himself and pass it, and set about distributing the water bottles. There was also a tray of carrot and celery sticks, with dip in the middle, that she pushed to the middle of the table. 

A moment later, Dan accepted the cookie tray from Artsy Redhead while Sue’s eyes searched the room. Eventually they landed on him, and a warm smile crept onto her face.

“Mr. Smith, care to go first? Tell everyone a little about yourself?”

“Uhh,” he quickly grabbed a sugar cookie, as well as a napkin to set it on. Then he tried to focus on Sue’s calming expression instead of everyone’s gaze on him. “I’m Dan Smith… yes that’s my real name even though it sounds absolutely fake.” Thankfully this got a chuckle from everyone, the most earnest from the tattooed musician. “I’m from London, where I taught English for two years… and now I’m here.” He concluded by offering what felt like a lame, weak smile. 

“Thank you,” Sue said with a nod, then looked at Bun and Glasses. “Ling?”

The younger woman cleared her throat. “Hello, my name is Ling Li. I come from Hong Kong, and I teach global history.” 

From there the introductions came quicker, the remaining teachers having gotten the hang of it. 

“Oi, I’m Kyle Simmons, also from London,” Tattoo explained, throwing Dan a little smirk. “I’ll have the absolute privilege of teaching music here.” 

“Bonjour, hello,” the other woman began in a disinterested French accent. “I’m Desiree Bourque, from Paris, teaching art.”

Backwards Hat finished off: “Chris Wood here, but I’ve always gone by Woody. I’m from Plymouth, and I’ll be teaching phys. ed. as well as health.”

Dan politely listened to the last two introductions, but found his attention was still drawn to Kyle. 

Sue was now sitting at the table as well. “And how’s everyone finding New York so far? Any questions or concerns?”

“I have to ask,” Kyle said, very seriously. “For how much longer, give or take, will it be as hot as a bleedin’ rain forest?!” His face broke into a grin, drawing subdued laughter from the rest of the room. 

“A valid inquiry,” Sue conceded with a chuckle. “Another two to three weeks, at most. You’ll miss it in the dead of winter when it’s freezing, I promise.” 

“My air-con bill won’t miss it,” Woody chimed in, deadpan, and the lot of them laughed again. 

Dan’s head was practically spinning, delighted at having encountered these two lads with his shared background. 

“What’s the most challenging experience you’ve had in your career?” Ling asked Sue. 

“Mmm, probably when I taught _Angels in America_ for the first time,” the principal answered. “I was at a much less progressive school and the conservative parents weren’t exactly open to many of the themes.” 

Dan nodded, thinking back to his stuffy secondary school and how any literature with even slightly controversial elements was treated as wholly scandalous and untoward. Thankfully uni had been better in that regard. 

They all chatted a bit more before Desiree asked for Sue’s help in locating a certain storage closet, so they left, while Ling also excused herself to finish setting up her classroom. 

“I should hit it as well, lads,” Woody said, rising from his seat “Need to head over to the turf field where the football - Sorry, _soccer_ \- team practices.” He said “soccer” in an obnoxious American accent, eliciting a chuckle from Dan and Kyle. 

They also stood and started filing out of the room, clearing their rubbish into the nearby bin. 

Kyle looked around, feigning stealth, and helped himself to the last few oatmeal raisin cookies, then disposed of the flimsy plastic tray as well as a few napkins. 

“Better him than me, mate,” Woody said to Dan, tilting his baseball-capped head toward Kyle. 

“Same,” Dan agreed through a giggle, glad he had an excuse to grin while he watched Kyle adorably scarf down the last of the goodies. 

“So lads,” Kyle began as they headed down the hall, “either of you fancy meeting for happy hour tonight? My mate who studies at the conservatory nearby mentioned a good spot.”

“Count me in,” Woody replied without hesitation. 

“Uh, sure, me as well,” Dan agreed. 

“Sweet.” Kyle quickly rattled off the name and location of the bar. “Figure we’ll be there by 6 o’clock.”

By then they’d reached the front entrance of the school. 

“My stop, boys,” Woody said, starting for the door. “See you then.”

Dan and Kyle saw him off and continued walking in easy silence. 

It occurred to Dan then that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself for the next few hours. He’d finished his classroom setup, so now it was merely a question of how far ahead on his lesson plans he needed to be. In theory he could do some of that, and also dash home before happy hour to relax a bit and perhaps change his clothes. There was also the chance that Kyle was free and might want to –

“Back to the music room for me,” the other man told him with a sigh as they reached the intersection of hallways where Dan had found himself lost the day before. “Catch you at the pub later,” he offered with a dutiful salute before turning the corner. 

“See you,” Dan breathed quietly, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment in his chest as the other man retreated out of sight.

\--- 

Hoping he didn’t look like an overwhelmed tourist, Dan carefully navigated his way to the bar. The route took him on a nice walk through Morningside Park and into Harlem, where he hadn’t really spent much time yet. 

The place was called Mess Hall, which seemed somewhat tongue-in-cheek based on the photos on their website. But it wasn’t overly swanky, with reasonably priced happy hour specials and a food menu consisting of artisanal hot dogs. 

Dan opened the bar’s front door and slid inside, immediately grateful for the establishment’s adherence to the American practice of unleashing air conditioning at full blast. 

Glancing about for any signs of the others, he quickly heard Kyle’s deep voice ring out from the area beside the long bar. 

“She did _not_!” Kyle exclaimed through a laugh in amused disbelief. His back, clad in a different t-shirt from the one he’d been wearing earlier, faced Dan, and there was a shorter bloke sitting across from him at the square high-top table. 

“I swear, on my first guitar that I got when I was 8, she most certainly did,” the other chap insisted before a renewed wave of uproarious laughter overtook them both. 

Dan had approached by then, and Kyle’s companion caught notice of his presence. 

“Oi, mate,” he said by way of greeting, then returned his gaze to Kyle. “This one of yours?”

Kyle rotated his hips so he could glance back over his shoulder. “Ahoy, he is!” He very warmly waved Dan over, indicating to the open seat to his left. 

“I’m Charlie,” the other man said eagerly, extending his hand. 

“Dan,” he replied, sliding onto the barstool as they shook. 

Charlie studied him for a second with a raised eyebrow. “You’re the English teacher, yeah?”

“Glad it’s patently obvious that I have no business teaching phys ed,” Dan quipped. 

Charlie swallowed a gulp of his pint. “You’re in good company then, as I certainly don’t either. And Kyle here can scale a rock wall - all limbs, as he is - but otherwise I’d venture the same applies.”

Kyle downed the rest of his pint and flipped Charlie a (gloriously long) middle finger, then stood. “I should skip you on this round, just for that.”

“But you won’t,” Charlie supplied, overdramatically batting his eyelashes at the taller man. 

“I won’t, no,” Kyle acquiesced. Then he turned to Dan. “Lager all right with you?”

“F-fine, thanks,” Dan managed, with some hesitation as he absorbed the dynamic of their exchange. 

Kyle grinned before he turned his back and Dan forced himself not to stare. 

“You study music?” he asked Charlie, hoping the question came off more as friendly conversation than evidence of his hanging onto Kyle’s every word since they’d met. 

“Indeed. Pursuing a Master’s in composition at Manhattan School of Music,” Charlie explained. “Not sure I’ll ever use it, but it got me to the States for at least two years, and my tuition is covered, so it’s hard to argue with that.”

“Definitely,” Dan agreed, wholly impressed with this other bloke’s credentials. 

At that moment Kyle returned to the table just as Woody breezed through the door and joined them, the requisite introductions being made. 

“Don’t know about you boys but I’m bloody starving,” the long-haired man went on, grabbing a glossy menu from the center of the table. When he read it, his eyes narrowed. “Hot dogs?! That’s it?” He flipped the menu to the other side one more time, in search of other food options. 

“The veggie dogs are most excellent, I can attest,” Charlie offered with utmost seriousness. 

Woody, meanwhile, was now smirking. “A proper sausage fest then, innit boys?”

In spite of himself, Dan joined the others in a round of hearty laughter.

\--- 

Dan kept making excuses.

There were a million innocent reasons that could justify one co-worker staring at another co-worker’s hands. His fixation on Kyle’s fingers meant nothing. However, Dan’s mind kept insisting on revisiting the previous day when he watched those same hands fly across piano keys, fully commanding them to do their bidding. Kyle’s hands could probably convince all sorts of things and people to do as they willed. 

Perhaps drinking the third beer had been a mistake— it was giving his idiot brain the opportunity to run unchecked. Historically, that had always been dangerous. 

Dan watched Kyle grip his pint glass, his wrist covered in multiple bracelets, the rings on his fingers catching the lights of the bar. The rings were all silver, some were smooth bands with no adornments while others were formed into shapes. Dan couldn’t quite make them out from where he sat and didn’t trust himself to ask what they were.

Dan wondered if he could pull off the same look, to be a bloke who causally wore a ton of rings like he hadn’t fretted over what they were or how they would appear. How had Kyle chosen his? Did they mean anything? Did a certain someone give them to him?

Dan knew he was overthinking, but was as powerless to stop it as he would be to stop his heart from beating. Fuck, he couldn’t even stop his heart from hammering like a shitty sound system every time Kyle so much as spoke to him.

The more Dan turned it over in his mind, he was convinced. No. He most definitely could not wear rings. 

Unhelpfully, his brain provided him with an image of someone sliding a plain band around his left ring finger. Right. So there was one ring he could wear, but now was certainly not the time for a thought like that.

Suddenly, he wondered how long he had been gawking at Kyle’s hands. Charlie and Woody were still going on about the woes of something-or-another, Dan had stopped following long ago, but it was only now he noticed that Kyle wasn’t speaking. 

Dan glanced up and found he had Kyle’s full attention. Kyle was observing him as if Dan were a riddle that needed solving. Kyle raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

While Dan was grateful Kyle hadn’t drawn everyone’s notice by asking him aloud what the fuck he was doing, Dan’s face burned as if he had. He forced his beer soaked brain to say something, to say anything at all, so long as it wasn’t about Kyle’s fingers or his rings. 

“I, um…” Dan began, pushing his glasses up his nose in a nervous reflex.

Kyle nodded slightly in encouragement, his dark eyes shining. Dan lowered his gaze, desperate for something to provide a plausible cover up. 

“…really like your bracelets.”

Fuck. 

As if that were any better. 

This, _this_ was why Dan preferred his books to anything else. They didn’t have hands, or fucking twinkly dark eyes. 

Kyle graciously accepted Dan’s proclamation at face value. “Thanks, mate. I’ve had some of them a long while.”

“Were they gifts? Did people give—“

Charlie reached across the table, and held Kyle’s left wrist up. He thumbed through the bracelets and gently tugged at one that was a saddle brown leather. “I gave him this one.” He smiled hugely at Kyle and his voice pitched high. “Do you remember the—“

Kyle laughed. “Of course! Like I could forget the—“

“Certainly not,” Charlie chuckled. He placed his fingers around another, one that was braided with threads of various shades of green. “And this one, too. Christ. That was such a long time ago—“

“I can’t believe it hasn’t fallen apart yet,” Kyle snorted.

“Nothing but the ab _so_ lute best for you.” Charlie moved away from Kyle, nicking Kyle’s beer as he retreated. He looked well pleased with himself as he downed the remainder of Kyle’s pint.

Kyle turned back to Dan. “To answer your question in a less dramatic fashion…”

Charlie cheerfully raised a middle finger in Kyle’s direction. 

“… some were gifts. Others I came across along the way. A few of them are from places or times that were major events in my life and a few I bought because I liked the look of them.” 

“Obviously your favorites being the ones I’ve given you,” Charlie quipped again. 

Kyle didn’t reply, he simply crooked one side of his mouth into a smile that was a borderline smirk.

Dan’s brain wasn’t exactly sober nor was it firing on all cylinders, but it clicked into action at Charlie’s words. It was clear that Charlie had a long history with Kyle. They were at ease with one another in a manner than Dan had immediately envied, only now— now, he couldn’t remove the image of the two of them _together_ , together. He pictured them at jewelry stores, he pictured Charlie tying a bracelet around Kyle’s wrist, he pictured Charlie sliding a ring onto Kyle’s left hand.

And honestly? Dan didn’t care for it.

Dan was well aware that he was being nonsensical. He didn’t even know Kyle, but he wanted to. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Kyle. He—

“Mates, as much as I hate to be the one to break up a good time, it’s late and some of us live on the other side of the fucking world,” Woody spoke, pulling Dan back to the present. Woody stood and glanced around the table. “Who else needs to settle their tab?”

“I’ve already closed out,” Dan replied.

“Kyle, I’ll get yours,” Charlie rose to join Woody. “I owe you from last time.”

“Thanks for that. I’ll get the next one.”

Dan watched as the two men made their way back to the bar, his mind shifting back into panic mode as he was left alone with Kyle.

“Are you excited about the school year?” he blurted out.

Kyle’s teeth flashed as he grinned. “I don’t know if excited is the word I would choose, but yeah, I’m curious to see what sort the students are.”

A few seconds of awkward silence beat between them before Dan ambled on. “I, uh, I’m teaching The Great Gatsby for the first time and I’m looking forward to seeing what they make of it. I’ve probably spent far too much time on the lesson plans but—“ Dan stopped abruptly, worried that he was sounding like an overeager fool. The truth was that he _had_ spent ages on the novel and he had loved every moment of it.

Kyle nodded. “It is a great book, one of the few I actually enjoyed in school, though my instructor wasn’t at all like you.”

“How, how’d you mean?”

“Oh, he was a million years old and seemed fed up with everything. Not that we were model students, you know. We were fairly terrible. I’m sure you’ll have a much better time of it, likely they’ll be head over heels for you by week two.”

Even if he had been fully sober, Dan wasn’t sure if he would have known what to do with that remark. 

Fortunately (or not, Dan couldn’t quite decide), Woody and Charlie rejoined them before he was required to make an appropriate answer. The four of them wandered out of the bar and stood just outside the door.

“We should most definitely do this again, as often as possible,” Charlie stated as if it were already a matter of fact. Charlie tended to speak as if he were making grand proclamations, which Dan sort of liked about him. If it weren’t for Charlie’s _whatever_ with Kyle, Dan would’ve already considered Charlie to be a mate, even having only met him the once.

“Maybe not so late on a school night though, eh?” Woody replied. 

“Wood,” Kyle grinned as he threw an arm around Woody’s shoulders. “My place isn’t exactly around the corner, but am I making a fuss? No. Why? Because—

“No one asked why,” Woody grumbled.

“Because life is for living. You can sleep when you’re dead, sir.”

“Hear! Hear!” Charlie chimed.

“If I stand ‘round here much longer with you lot, I’ll be dead of old age soon enough.” 

“At least then you’ll be able to get your rest,” Dan noted. “Because, um, you’d be dead.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Dan knew they were rubbish. It was a bit mortifying. He was after all, an English teacher and a sort of writer. But the three pints had been downed in fairly rapid succession. What could one do, but try and hope for the best after that?

Charlie raised an imaginary glass in the air. “Hear! HEAR!”

Grateful and his friendship with Charlie now officially sealed, Dan laughed along with the others. He watched as Kyle brought his other arm around Woody to bring him into a hug. 

“Right then lads, we’ll call it for tonight.” Kyle walked over to Dan, fidgeting with his wrist as he did. He stopped just in front of Dan and for a moment, stared at him.

Dan blinked and wondered what to make of it. Was Kyle trying to determine if he was worth embracing, when he had just pulled Woody in without so much as a second thought? Could Kyle sense that Dan had, well, if not feelings, definitely thoughts about feelings for him? Was he so transparent as all that?

Suddenly, Dan felt Kyle’s hand wrap around his own in a firm handshake. His heart dropped and settled somewhere on the concrete underneath his feet. Dan felt as if he had failed some sort of exam. He was struggling to keep his face clear of expression when he saw that Kyle was still looking at him. Once their eyes met, Kyle stared directly at their joined hands.

It was then that Dan realized that Kyle had pressed something into his palm. Kyle grinned and released his grip on Dan’s hand. “I dunno if you’d qualify tonight as a major life event, but it feels like one to remember.”

Kyle turned and walked to Charlie before Dan could say anything. Kyle pulled Charlie close in a hug. “I’ll text when I’m home,” Kyle told him.

Charlie’s face was barely visible over Kyle’s shoulder as he replied, “Just come to mine. You heard the good man, it’s late.”

“Right then.” Kyle raised his hand and waved goodbye to the others. “Until tomorrow, lads!”

Dan watched them walk away together, already laughing at some inside joke. 

“Can’t quite figure the two of them out,” Woody observed. 

“They seem to be…” Dan trailed, searching for a way to complete the thought that didn’t make him sound as if he were a lovesick youth. “... involved.”

“Maybe not in the way you’re thinking,” Woody shrugged. He nodded his head in the direction he meant to take. “Let’s go. We can walk some of the way together, yeah?”

Dan moved alongside him and listened as Woody rambled about how worn out he’d be the next day over the lost sleep. He had to be at the school first thing, had some sort of football thing afterwards, needed to phone his mum and so on. As Woody continued, Dan’s thoughts were partially with him, but mostly they were focused on the item that Kyle had slipped into his hand.

He turned it over and over again in his palm, but it wasn’t until he left Woody at the station that he opened his hand to stare at it. 

A bracelet. 

Kyle had given him one of the bracelets from his wrist.

Dan recalled Kyle’s words— that this night was one to remember. 

Dan wondered if Woody was right, that maybe Charlie and Kyle weren’t together in the way he feared. His brain warned him to be cautious, but his heart, having once more found its way back into his chest, was hammering like that shitty sound system all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've done your summer reading, because school is about to begin.


	2. Lost and Found

“...so think about that while you’re reading,” Dan was telling his last-period English I class. “What’s happening with the characters, and how might that be a commentary on the time period in which the story is set?”

His students – a mixture of freshmen and sophomores, in this class – carefully took notes, their teenage faces focused most seriously on their composition books before looking up at him again. 

Before he could go on, though, the bell rang to signal the end of the class period and, in fact, the school day. 

“Don’t forget your permission slips by tomorrow!” He quickly instructed as the kids gathered their books. “Our field trip to East Egg — also known as the Sands Point Preserve — is in 10 days.” He couldn’t help but grin, in anticipation of the trip as well as the humor of his reference. 

Thereafter the students cheerfully filed out, some of them offering a warm smile and/or a “bye, Dan!” as they made for the door. 

It had only been three days, but whatever misgivings he had about being addressed by his first name were almost entirely gone. The students were all completely respectful, and most were eager to learn and equipped to think critically about their assignments (rudimentary as they’d been thus far). It was all a refreshing change of pace from his own schooling and teaching experience back home. 

Sitting at the large desk in front of the room, he put away his written materials from that day’s classes and closed out of the smartboard display portal on his laptop. They’d finally gotten to substantive lessons, after spending the first two days on icebreaker activities and going over a basic introduction and course expectations. 

Then, he opened his lesson plans for the next day. His phone vibrated, but he ignored it momentarily, finishing the review of his outline for both his regular English class and Creative Writing seminar, an elective course for juniors and seniors. 

Finally, he removed his phone from his pocket, his heart squeezing a little at the notification of a text from Kyle. 

_Field trip meeting? M’I missing it?_

Dan looked at the clock on his classroom wall. _Not quite. Starts in 15 mins._

He paused, wanting to avoid the cardinal sin of double-texting, but trusted his instincts on this one. _(In Sue’s office)_

 _Swell, thanks!_

Even this simple exchange had brought a smile to his face and a warm feeling in his chest. 

They hadn’t socialized at all since the previous Thursday’s happy hour, as the first week of school kept them each rather busy. Nonetheless, Dan, Kyle, and Woody were eager participants in what might be the most lively (not to mention swear-laden) WhatsApp group text in the Northern Hemisphere. They exchanged amusing anecdotes about their days, asked one another questions about Morningside Progressive Academy, and shared tips on navigating about NYC. 

So, Dan was excited for the field trip because of his love for the underlying literature, obviously, but it didn’t hurt that - seemingly - it’d be another opportunity for in-person interaction with Kyle. Then again, any thoughts about the other man ultimately circled back to the fact that he was, no doubt, involved with Charlie in some way. 

Glancing around as if he was potentially being watched, Dan slipped a small notebook out of his backpack and flipped to the last page he’d written on. 

_Obsession, it takes control  
Obsession, it eats me whole _

Biting the end of his pen, Dan thought for a moment. He’d been captivated by Kyle almost instantly. Given the short time they’d known each other, and the other complicating circumstances, Dan couldn’t imagine ever expressing these feelings in spoken form. 

He added:

_I can’t say the words out loud  
So in a rhyme I wrote you down_

Dan loved literature because a book was basically a porthole into another universe that existed in perpetuity. Characters written so long ago endured through time, regardless of the years passing in the real world.

Maybe he couldn’t express his feelings for Kyle in real life, but if he wrote about them… He started scribbling again. 

_Now you’ll live for the ag–_

“Well, hello there.” A deep voice shook Dan out of his brief writer’s tunnel vision. 

“O-oh! Hey!” The nervousness evident in his voice, he rushed to close the notebook as Kyle cautiously stepped inside the room. 

“I was just passing by on my way to Sue’s,” the music teacher explained, gesturing to the hallway. “D’you– we should head up there now, yeah?”

Dan glanced at the clock, confirming that it was indeed time. “Seems like it, sure.” He slid his lesson book and the smaller notebook into his bag and zipped it closed as fast as he could manage, then stood and slipped it over one shoulder. 

Kyle went first back out into the hallway, and waited for Dan to lock his classroom door. Then they both set off in the direction of Sue’s office. 

“Good first week so far?” Kyle asked in his typical easygoing way. 

“I think so, yeah,” Dan answered cautiously. “You?”

“Absolutely,” Kyle said with self-assuredness. “Kids have that special sort of energy, y’know? Hopeful enthusiasm and the like.” 

Dan felt himself smirk. “I find that usually lasts about two weeks, tops, before reality sets in.”

Kyle at least had the decency to chuckle at his cynicism. 

By then they’d arrived at Sue’s office. Her assistant having gone home for the day, they cautiously walked through the outer office and Dan knocked on the inner door, which was open a slight crack. 

“Come in?” the principal’s voice called. 

With that Dan opened the door. 

“Gentlemen, hello!” she said brightly upon seeing them, then gestured to the two chairs facing her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

They exchanged pleasantries and she very graciously asked how they were finding their experience now that the school year had kicked off.

“We were just discussing that, actually,” Kyle said.

“Seems to be going well enough,” Dan confirmed with a nod and smile. 

“Well, for the record, I suspected you’d both do splendidly from the get-go.” Then Sue turned to Kyle. “Mary tells me you’ve barely needed any guidance at all.” 

Reviewing his mental notes about the school, Dan vaguely recalled Mary being the other music teacher. Which made sense, obviously. 

“Just knowing she’s there for support is guidance enough,” Kyle said with a grin. 

“Regardless, she’s extremely impressed with your comfort and abilities and said she wouldn’t even know it was your first time teaching. But don’t be shy about asking questions, all right?”

Dan’s eyebrows knit themselves together before his brain even fully registered the shock at Sue’s statement. This was Kyle’s first teaching job?!

“Anyway,” the principal was saying. “The field trip.”

This snapped Dan back on task and he eagerly opened a note on his phone to take down her instructions.

\- - - 

They’d talked for around twenty minutes, first about logistics like the bus’s departure time and the other chaperones who’d be along for the trip, then about the details for the visit to Sands Point itself. Not surprisingly, Dan’s plans for literature-based activities were a bit more fully formed than Kyle’s for the music class aspect, but he confidently asserted that he’d be ready for the trip and would run his ideas by Sue a day or so prior. 

Dan was still floored by the revelation that the other man had never taught before. 

“This is really your first time teaching?” he blurted out as they departed the school building later. 

“Properly in a school, yes,” Kyle conceded. “But I taught all of my younger siblings and cousins how to play piano, and gave lessons for some other kids when I needed cash. Figured I liked that enough, and the school was willing to have me, so why not?” 

Dan nodded as he absorbed this information. It made perfect sense that cool, confident Kyle would shlep across an ocean to try a new job for the first time without batting an eye. 

It also occurred to Dan that when he saw Kyle playing the piano that day, he was in his most natural element. Kind of like how Kyle had - maybe - caught him writing prior to the meeting. 

They turned the corner onto Broadway. 

“You fancy another happy hour? Tomorrow?” Kyle asked over the dull roar of the traffic. 

“Sounds good, yeah,” Dan nodded. “S’not a school night, so Woody won’t even try to knock off early,” he added and they both chuckled. 

“That place from last time was great. I’ll ask Charlie if he has any other ideas or if we should just head back there.”

Ah yes. Charlie. “Great,” Dan said, grinning through a wince. 

By then they’d reached the intersection with 115th St. 

“This is me,” Dan said, indicating down the side street toward his flat. 

“You weren’t kidding about living close to school,” Kyle teased. 

“Seemed practical when I agreed to the lease. Still does, actually,” he defended. 

“You are nothing if not incredibly practical,” Kyle said solemnly, and for a moment Dan couldn’t decide if the sentiment was a compliment or a patronizing bit of condescension. 

Kyle’s dark eyes conveyed nothing but lighthearted warmth, so in the end the benefit of the doubt won out. 

Dan cleared his throat, breaking the silence between them. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Indeed. ‘Til then.” Kyle extended his hand in a fist, and Dan obliged him with a bump. 

Then Kyle continued walking up Broadway, off to be cooler and more easygoing than Dan could ever imagine.

\- - - 

In accordance with the plans they’d discussed, Dan found himself around the same square high-top table at the same bar they’d visited the previous week. 

Kyle was rather animatedly recounting a story from one of his music history classes that day, his face displaying different expressions while his bracelet-clad hands added gesticulation. Dan couldn’t help but grin and laugh at the more humorous parts, Kyle’s vivacious attitude infusing him with energy even as the first few days of school had left him somewhat drained. 

“‘Ello there, chaps!”

Dan’s Kyle-induced trance was broken by the arrival of Charlie, already toting a pint for himself from the bar. 

“Aye,” Woody offered as the fourth man made himself comfortable, settling his beer down and slinging a shoulder-strap messenger bag over the back of his barstool. 

“Mmm, wait,” Kyle said, leaning over and smelling at Charlie’s shoulder.

“Mate…?” Woody asked, reasonably confused as to what Kyle was doing. 

Charlie huffed a little and rolled his eyes. “I’ve just been at work. Coffee shop.” 

“I don’t really drink coffee,” Kyle confessed, “but I love the way it smells. Especially–” he took another sniff “–after he’s been at the shop for a while.” 

Dan wrinkled his nose, reconsidering his years-long devotion to coffee. “That’s weird, man.” 

Kyle shrugged, drinking from his glass completely unbothered. 

Before they could proceed to other, more normal topics of discussion, Woody’s phone dinged with a text notification. 

Then it sounded again a moment later. 

Ten seconds after that, it chimed out several times in a row. 

He thumbed through the messages, an especially pronounced frown forming on his bearded face. 

“...something wrong, then?” Kyle prompted, concerned.

“Mmm, quite. Seems we’re down a man for tomorrow’s footie match with the Aussies.”

“The what now?” Charlie asked, an eyebrow cocked curiously. 

“There’s a local football league… teams of foreign expats in the area,” Woody explained, then took a sip of his pint. “UK plays Australia tomorrow morning but one of my lads just found out he has to work, and we were already pretty thin because of other people’s scheduling conflicts.”

“Ah,” Dan breathed in understanding, simply grateful that they’d moved on from Kyle’s sniff-a-thon.

Meanwhile, Woody had begun looking at the table, studying each of them in turn. The other three glanced at each other nervously, after which time Woody’s gaze had settled on Kyle.

“What are you… oh,” Charlie keened mischievously. 

“Yeah,” Woody said, gulping from his beer again. 

“What?!” Kyle exclaimed, still confused. 

Dan stifled a giggle, having figured it out as well. 

“You fancy helping a pal out, jumping into the match tomorrow?” Woody asked. “I reckon you're the least atrocious option.”

Dan almost spit out a mouthful of beer at that characterization. 

“He’s not wrong,” Charlie mumbled with a smirk. 

“I– uh,” Kyle stammered. “I guess I can.” He paused, thinking. “I mean. Sure. Why not?” he concluded with a shrug. 

Dan glanced sidelong at Kyle, once again impressed by his easygoing, try-anything-once attitude. 

“My only condition,” the music teacher went on, “is that I have some cheerleaders. Moral support, eh?” he said, air-nudging both Charlie and Dan with his elbows. 

“Trek to Brooklyn. On a Saturday morning? To _watch football_?!” Charlie’s eyebrow arched higher and higher, about to take flight from his face altogether. 

Woody sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “It’s at 11, so not terribly early. And if you need a bigger incentive, there’s an amazing ice cream shop nearby. Apparently when it first opened people came from all over the city to try their goods.”

Charlie nodded reluctantly. “Hard to argue with that,” he conceded.

“That’s a good lad!” Kyle happily declared. Then he turned to Dan. “Mmm, whadaya say?”

 _Like there’s anything I_ wouldn’t do for you. 

“Football and ice cream,” he said instead. “Sounds good to me— as long as I don’t have to play.”

“Fair enough then.” Woody raised his half-consumed pint. “To football and ice cream.”

“Hear, hear!” Kyle affirmed, not lowering his glass until the other three had toasted him accordingly.

\- - - 

Dan stared at his wardrobe, hoping for a miracle. 

He surveyed the piles of semi-folded clothes and found the same slightly-faded-oft-laundered t-shirts he’d had for ages. Nothing had magically appeared since he last checked; there was nothing that he could change into that would transform him into something else entirely.

Dan’s brain unhelpfully flashed to an image of what he imagined Charle’s flat to be like: instruments, sheet music artfully arranged, snapshots of Kyle on the fridge, a wardrobe with rows upon rows of clothes that fit as if they were tailored just for him.

Dan scowled. He was acting like an idiot again, imagining the worst. 

Charlie had been nothing but kindness, drawing Dan into his circle and out of his empty flat. The fact that he wore clothes that made him look like an actual put together adult should not have been problematic. 

He reached to the nearest stack of clothes and grabbed what looked to be his least wrinkled option. Dan pulled it on over his head, mentally chiding his brain for fretting over what to wear to watch _football,_ of all things. 

“Stop it,” he muttered aloud as he felt his pulse zipping along its merry way. Just because Kyle was going to be there was no reason to be fussed. It was a game, a hang out, nothing to be worked up over.

He glanced at his nightstand and at Kyle’s bracelet which laid on its surface. He picked it up and began to fidget with it. In the week since Kyle had given it to him, Dan had yet to muster the bravery required to wear it. Politeness alone dictated that Dan should do so eventually. Surely, he could wear it for a friendly afternoon of football amongst mates—there would be nothing odd about that.

Dan slid it over his wrist, fumbling with the knots, but wanting to be certain that it was on securely. Satisfied that it was, he then moved to his mirror to assess the disaster that was his hair. He ran his hands through it, hoping for the best, and caught the reflection of the bracelet.

And well, that was one thing Charlie wouldn’t be wearing today, wasn’t it?

Dan watched a small smile form on his face that was befitting of the petty person he had become and didn’t bother trying to stifle it.

\- - - 

Eager to escape the muggy subway station at Grand Army Plaza, Dan took the stairs to street level two at a time. Squinting a moment in the bright sunlight, he got his bearings and walked in the supposed direction of Prospect Park. 

Having never been to Brooklyn before, he observed that it had a similar energy to his neighborhood and the Upper West Side. Busy avenues intersected with quieter residential streets, and since it was a nice mid-September day there were plenty of people milling on the sidewalks, pushing strollers and walking dogs. 

There was also an overly bustling farmer’s market set up right at the park’s entrance. Thankfully he’d left himself plenty of time to get to the park from Morningside so he wandered through easily, sparing a glance at some of the food stands as well as the various people (and leashed animals) milling about. 

In accordance with Woody’s directions he walked through an underpass, following the paved path until he arrived at a sprawling expanse of grass. Much like the nearby plaza, the park was pretty busy, but Dan quickly spied the gaggle of guys in the middle of an open space marked off for a football match. Once he got closer he spotted Woody, his shaggy hair pulled back into a messy, insufficient ponytail. 

“You made it,” Woody said, slightly out of breath after jogging over. 

“Yeah, I snuck a look at the ice cream shop’s website. You’re right about it being a perfect incentive.” He looked around. “It’s nice here.”

“Worth the interminable daily subway ride, honestly,” Woody remarked. Then he looked around, where an assortment of other lads were gathered in two groups, idly chatting and passing a few footballs around with their feet. “Seems we’re only waiting on Kyle now.”

“Surprising, given his enthusiasm for participating,” Dan quipped. 

Woody chuckled, but also rolled his eyes. Then he led Dan over to one of the groups, and introduced his other local British mates in a quick flourish of names Dan had no hope of remembering. But he nodded politely and offered warm smiles, comforted to have connected even tangentially with more people from his home turf. 

One of the Aussies approached. “Wood, mate, when do you reckon we’ll be ready to start?” 

“Any minute now,” Woody answered. “Just waiting on one more, he—”

“I’m here!”

The enthusiastic cry was audible from a distance, and all three of them turned in its direction to see Kyle’s long legs gliding atop the grass to the central field area. 

Dan had to make a significant effort not to openly gawk at the sight. Kyle was wearing a tank top so flimsy it looked like it might disintegrate right off his body if a stiff breeze blew by. He also had on cotton shorts that were a smidge too short for someone of his substantial height, and a pair of perfectly shiny mostly-white trainers. 

“I’m here, sorry!” the music teacher repeated, sounding a bit winded as he pulled to a stop right next to them. He flashed Dan a bright smile before addressing Woody and the Australian man. “Sorry lads, got a little held up it seems. Hope I’m not horribly late.”

“No worries, mate,” the Aussie said, then turned to Woody. “We’ll start in two minutes then?”

“Right-o,” Woody acquiesced, before encouraging Kyle to follow him over to the rest of their team. 

Dan exhaled, willing himself not to stare as Kyle walked away. He watched as the taller man said a cursory hello to the rest of the British footie players, then joined up as Woody got them all into a strategic huddle. 

Once the game started, Dan reasoned that he couldn’t possibly be expected to stand for an hour while watching his mates play football. Trying to make it look as dignified as possible, he lowered himself to the ground and got as comfortable as he could sitting cross-legged on the grass. 

“Any good action so far?”

Dan sat up straight at the sound of the familiar voice. “Uh, no, they only started a minute ago.” 

“Mmm,” Charlie said, joining him in taking a seat on the ground. “Sportsball: the _actual_ bane of my existence.”

Caught off guard at Charlie’s proclamation, Dan gave an undignified snort of amusement before he could stop himself. He watched as Charlie went about brushing away the bits of grass and dirt that had already begun to cling to his clothes. Charlie was dressed from head to toe in black as if he were playing some sort of gig instead of watching a neighborhood bout of football. 

Dan glanced away from Charlie, automatically finding Kyle in the crowd of players. It was ostensibly because Kyle’s gleamingly white trainers could easily be spotted across the field, but mostly it was that Dan couldn’t help but to look for him. 

Charlie easily tracked Dan’s sightline and observed, “Kyle’s not bad at football, though I think it did shatter something inside of him to wear those particular trainers today. I’m afraid they’ll be a bit destroyed after this is all said and done.”

“Wonder why he wore them, then?” 

“Oh,” Charlie shrugged. “It was the only pair of tennies he had at my place. No other choice. He fairly tore the place to pieces, looking for something else to wear—it’s why we were so late.”

“Oh,” Dan echoed like some absurd parrot. Before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth, he wondered dumbly, “So you two came together?”

Charlie’s eyes shifted from the game back to Dan. “We were caught up working on some music after the bar last night, so Kyle crashed. He’s had this one melody stuck in his head for weeks now, we were trying to fit some lyrics to it. It’s quite a pretty tune.”

Charlie began to hum and Dan was instantly struck by two things at once: Charlie’s voice was frustratingly perfect and the song was the very one he’d heard Kyle playing on the day they met. 

“Do you write together a lot?” Dan asked, imagining what that might be like. He pictured himself, pen shoved behind his ear, sitting next to Kyle at a piano, sheets of paper strawn about—Charlie nowhere to be found. It was nonsensical on all levels. Charlie was seemingly everywhere and Dan wasn’t even sure that he could let Kyle read his poems, much less sing them. The thought of hearing his lines leaving Kyle’s lips in that baritone voice of his was more than Dan could process at the present time.

“I’d say so, yeah,” Charlie replied. “We’ve done a ton of songs, but this particular ditty is giving him some trouble. None of my lyrics seem to suit.” Charlie lit up in a smile as an idea seemed to occur to him. “You’ll have to come to our gigs! You’ll be amongst dozens of people! We’ve got one coming up not long from now and Kyle’s got a solo stint even sooner than that. I know he’d love it if you showed up. He’s always going on about you and that field trip of yours.”

Charlie’s enthusiasm was contagious and Dan could feel a grin of his own spreading across his face. The idea of evenings out at concerts reminded him of home in the best way and the idea that Kyle was talking to Charlie about him was even better still. “I’d like that. It’s much more my speed than, uh, sportsball.”

“Exactly!” Charlie agreed. “I was always that bloke at school avoiding physical activity at all costs. Much rather stand about debating important musical issues such as who is the most influential British musician and the like rather than play some Godawful thing like rugby.” 

Dan laughed and nodded. “Where were you in secondary school when I needed someone to ditch rugby with?”

“Lichfield, mate, Lichfield. But no matter, I’m here for you now.” Charlie settled his elbows atop his knees which were drawn close to his body and glanced at Dan. “So let’s hear it, then. Most influential British musician…”

“I mean, it has to be The Beatles, doesn’t it? If you look at—”

“Maaaaate. No.”

Dan raised an eyebrow. “No? How can you argue against the bloody Beatles?”

“Because! The answer is obviously Bowie.” Charlie shook his head in false sadness. “Beatles, really. I can not—”

“Right then. Convince me why it’s _obviously_ Bowie.” 

Dan leaned back on the palms of his hands, his legs stretched before him, watched Kyle run about with the others in the distance and was content to listen to Charlie deliver a dissertation on David Bowie.

\- - - 

The game finally reached its conclusion and Dan went to check the time on his phone. Though it wasn’t as if it particularly mattered, there was no place else he’d rather be. He looked at his hand and felt his heart stop when he noticed that his wrist was bare. 

Kyle’s bracelet was gone. 

Holy fuckity fuck. He’d somehow managed to lose it. His brain shuffled memories in rapid succession as he strove to recall when he’d last seen it. His mind froze on an image of Kyle. 

Kyle had smiled at him when he recognized the bracelet on Dan’s wrist. It was just before the game so it must have fallen off somewhere in the park.

Dan wanted to drop to his knees and comb through the grass, but knew it would cause a scene. He didn’t want to explain why it mattered so much, why the damned thing meant the world to him. 

“Mate, are you coming along?” Charlie asked.

Dan paused, wondering just how the fuck he was going to explain his current predicament. Kyle chose that moment to wander over and fling an arm around Charlie’s shoulder, distracting Charlie from both Dan and his question.

Charlie’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “You absolutely _reek_ , must you manhandle me right now?”

Kyle lowered his head and proceeded to rub his hair in the space between Charlie’s chin and his shoulder like a shaggy dog shaking off after a bath, laughing in an evil super villain sort of way as he did so.

Charlie’s voice went high as he all but shrieked. “You mother fu—“

“Now, now then,” Kyle spoke over Charlie, grinning as he stepped away. 

Dan wasn’t sure which he liked less— being unable to be trusted to keep things in his possession for longer than an hour at a time or the display of whatever the hell this was between Kyle and Charlie. Both things made his stomach tie its own special sort of knot. 

Kyle’s attention fell on Dan and concern settled on his face. “You alright there?”

Dan opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but heard Woody calling for them in the distance. Charlie immediately jogged over to Woody, but Kyle hesitated and continued to stare at Dan. 

“What is it?”

Dan’s brain kicked into overdrive at Kyle’s concern:

_Oh, you know. I keep picturing how you’d look settled in my flat, keep seeing myself standing beside you at an altar, and sort of wonder how you’d look when you’re eighty, but you’re in love with someone else and I just lost the irreplaceable thing you gave me. Nothing to worry about._

Aloud, Dan admitted, “I’m an idiot.”

Kyle lifted an eyebrow. “How do you reckon?”

“I, I think your bracelet must have fallen off in this park somewhere.” Dan presented his wrist that looked extra pathetic now that the bracelet was gone. 

Kyle seemed to consider Dan’s predicament for a moment and then turned to yell over his shoulder at the others. “Go on! We’ll catch up.”

Dan didn’t know what to expect from Kyle— the man always seemed to do the exact opposite of what Dan would do in every situation. It was maddening and yet he couldn’t stop himself from being drawn to Kyle. 

When Kyle turned back to Dan, he searched Kyle’s expression for a hint of how he felt. Unsure and feeling off balance, Dan remained silent.

“Right. So.” Kyle took a quick survey of the park and then met Dan’s stare. “It was on your wrist when I got here. And you didn’t leave the general vicinity of this area during the game, yeah? Every time I looked over, you were sat here. You didn’t wander off randomly and I somehow missed it, did you?” 

Dan blinked. 

Kyle seemed acutely aware of Dan’s whereabouts, when by all accounts, he should have been focused on football. Dan wondered—he _hoped_ —that it meant something. 

“No, I didn’t. I was right here the entire time watching—“ 

“Were you now?” Kyle huffed in amusement. “You and Charlie spent most of it chatting away.”

Of course. Kyle had only known what Dan was doing because it had involved Charlie. “Well, Charlie’s great, isn’t he?” Dan managed and followed it with what was probably a weak smile. He forced the smile to widen as if he were some sort of phony court jester. 

Kyle seemed to study him. “He is, yeah.”

Dan felt like one of those toys that always appeared in films that featured a road trip. The sort that sat attached to the dashboard of a vehicle with a grin painted on their face as their head bobbed incessantly at the slightest movement. He forced himself to reply cheerily, “But I don’t need to sell you on his virtues, now do I?”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed a bit, not in anger, but as if he didn’t quite understand what Dan was getting at. “You do know that he’s—how should I put this? He’s, uh, in a relationship.”

“Of course!” Dan answered in false brightness. “That’s fairly apparent, isn’t it?”

Kyle appeared confused for a moment, but shrugged it off. “So for our search and rescue mission, I think between the two of us we’ll be able to track it down. But we’ll have to dig through the grass, do you mind—“ he nodded at Dan’s legs “mucking up your jeans?”

“Hardly. My clothes are always a bit of a disaster.” 

Kyle lowered to the ground and began to run his hands through the blades of grass. “I wouldn’t say that. You always look good, you know, put together.”

Dan kneeled down and searched a patch of grass that was close enough to Kyle that they could still easily talk. “I think you must be confusing me with someone else,” he deadpanned. 

“Tall bloke, everyone’s favorite English teacher and, on occasion, can be seen secretly scribbling into a notebook?” Kyle looked up to grin at Dan. “What _are_ you writing?”

Dan felt his face grow warm and was sure a blush was spreading down his neck. He moved to another area to continue his search. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled. “It’s rubbish.”

“I doubt that very much, but I understand if you don’t want to talk to me about it.” Kyle shifted and continued to study the ground. “Sometimes when I’m working on new music, I’ll spend ages on it before I feel as if I can play it for anyone else. I get it.”

Dan paused and watched Kyle, surprised that Kyle ever had moments of doubt. He seemed so certain of who he was and everything he did. His honesty made Dan want to do the same. Dan took a deep breath and then blurted, “Poetry. I, I— write poems.”

Kyle turned to meet Dan’s stare. His face shifted into the most gentle smile Dan had ever seen on him. “You’re a poet,” Kyle declared. “That makes so much sense.”

“It sounds like more than it is when you say it that way.”

Kyle shook his head at Dan’s remark and continued, “Absolutely no pressure at all, but if you ever felt comfortable enough to show me your work, I would love to read it.”

Dan recalled the lines he had written about Kyle and was certain that he'd somehow found a way to turn an even deeper shade of red. “I, um. Maybe? I don’t know. Some of the stuff that I’ve more or less finished, maybe…”

Kyle waited and in Dan’s silence said, “Anytime you feel ready, you know where to find me.” 

Dan was surprised by how much he suddenly wanted to share with Kyle. Certainly, the things he wrote about Kyle were off limits, but for the first time in a long while, he wanted to share his writing with someone aside from Ralph. Lost in his thoughts as he considered the implications of trusting Kyle in that way, he startled when Kyle suddenly hooted in joy.

“I’ve found it!” He sat up and leaned back on his heels, triumph taking hold of his face. “Well, come here, then.”

Dan rose to his feet and went to Kyle, a little surprised that Kyle intended to give the bracelet back to him. He stopped just in front of Kyle who shifted and placed his weight mostly to one of his knees. “Wrist, please.”

Dan did as Kyle asked and held his wrist out, but stammered, “Wha, what are you—”

“Tying this so it won’t come off,” Kyle replied as he moved past Dan’s hand and brought the ends of the bracelet together. “It’ll probably stay better since I can use both hands. Unless you don’t want—“

“No, I do.” Dan nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s for forever, you know,” Kyle smiled and looked up at Dan. “Once I do this, you can’t take it off. I mean you _could,_ obviously, but I—”

“The answer is still yes.” 

Kyle laughed and went about securing the bracelet. Once he was satisfied with it, he rose off of his knee and stood in front of Dan and grinned. “I—

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt,” came a voice from behind Dan. They turned and found a woman who was staring at them with exuberance practically humming from her small frame. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I was just over there and I wanted to congratulate you. You seem so happy together—“

Dan looked to Kyle and found his own confusion mirrored on Kyle’s face. What was this lady on about, did she— and then the realization hit him at once. She had seen Kyle down on one knee and heard Dan tell him yes. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cringe and was still sorting through it when she spoke again.

“You can never have too many pictures! Would you like me to take some of the two of you? Not that you’ll ever forget this moment, but—“

Kyle had also figured it out along the way and beamed as he reached for his phone. Handing it over to the woman, he said, “Thank you for thinking of it.”

It was all Dan could do to not gape at the both of them. After he died from this embarrassment, he certainly planned on haunting Kyle for eternity. He felt Kyle wrap an arm around his waist to pull him near. 

“What do you think, love?” Kyle smiled, his eyes twinkling full of amusement. “Want to take a few pictures?”

Dan’s chin snapped in the direction of Kyle’s and they were standing so close that his nose nearly bumped Kyle’s cheek. Taking advantage of the proximity, Dan tried to memorize the details of Kyle’s face. Some part of him already knew he’d be wracking his brain for details later, once he was alone with his pen and notebook. 

Usually, Kyle’s eyes were so dark that it was impossible to even distinguish his pupils, but in the sunlight, they no longer appeared black, but were more like the rich shade of the coffee Dan had every morning. He could read the elation in Kyle’s eyes. Dan found that he couldn’t contain the ridiculous smile he felt spreading across his face as he stared at Kyle.

“Why not?” Dan replied. “It’s not every day that something like this happens.”

Kyle broke into laughter and Dan felt a measure of pride at having been the cause of it. Kyle was a cheery bloke and was often laughing at something or another, but Dan had never heard his glee erupt in this manner before. It felt pretty fucking great. 

When he shifted to face the camera for their photos, Dan was already smiling. 

Minutes later, they were on their way to the ice cream shop and Kyle was scrolling through his phone. “She must have taken twenty plus photos!” He zoomed in one, his screen filling with an image of the two of them, both wearing ear to ear grins. “They’re nice, actually.”

Dan leaned over to inspect them. “We look…” his mind raced _”…in love. Newly engaged. As if we have the rest of our lives together ahead of us._ “…happy,” he managed.

“Well, I was,” Kyle said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. 

Dan willed his feet to move, to keep up.

“Were _you_?” Kyle asked with a sideward glance. “Are you happy now?”

Dan had to remind himself to take a breath. He glanced down at the picture that was still displayed on Kyle’s phone and then back to Kyle.

“Yes.”

Kyle looked pleased and nodded slightly. “Were or are?”

“Both.”

Kyle began to laugh again, a bit more gently this time than last. “These are very brief answers from the poet.”

“My poems are quite efficient.” Dan grinned and chucking his inhibitions out the window added, “You’ll see.”

\- - - 

The bell hooked to the door of the ice cream shop jingled merrily as Dan and Kyle walked into the brightly lit space. Tons of people crammed around every available surface, going about the business of eating their scoops with as much care as possible. It seemed as if everyone in Brooklyn had the same idea of trying to escape the day’s heat by partaking in a cold treat. 

“Oi, there they are,” Kyle pointed, his eyes searching through the crowd. 

Dan followed the direction of Kyle’s gesture and found Woody and Charlie huddled around a small table. Woody looked to be maintaining the same defensive strategy he had employed on the pitch earlier, only now it was a table he was guarding. 

Charlie smiled widely upon seeing them (upon seeing _Kyle_ , most likely) and threw his hand in the air, waving an invitation that they join them. 

Dan followed Kyle and drew up just beside him. 

“Well, that only took forty forevers,” Charlie greeted. “What kept you?”

“It’s a bit of a trek, isn’t it?” Kyle shrugged. “And we might have gotten turned around along the way.”

Dan nodded in agreement despite it not being anywhere near the truth. It had taken a while to make the walk from the park to the shop, but they had no trouble finding it. For reasons of his own, Kyle was neglecting to tell Charlie anything about their search for the bracelet. 

“I’ve taken the liberties of ordering your ice cream.” Charlie moved his hands grandly across the table, just above the dishes in front of him, as if he were a model on a game show displaying the final grand prize. “So _technically_ you’re due to get the next round.”

Kyle settled in a chair next to Charlie and pulled a ginormous bowl of ice cream to him, studying it intently. “I don’t know if I should give you credit for an entire round— it’s slightly melted.”

“Which is ice cream at it’s finest, if you ask me.” Woody presented his single scoop that sat precariously on a waffle cone as evidence.

“What is that?” Kyle scoffed. “Just plain vanilla? My gran has more adventurous taste than that!”

“We don’t all have the palette of an eight year old child,” Woody replied and motioned towards the monstrosity that was Kyle’s sundae.

“Ignore him. You can’t trust someone who looks at a menu as glorious as this one and then chooses to order vanilla bean.” Charlie pointed back to Kyle’s dish. “Let me tell you what I’ve gotten you— two scoops of chocolate milk and cookies and one scoop of a delightful blend simply known as ‘the commodore.’”

The dish looked absolutely bonkers. Dan leaned in to get a better view. Kyle noticed his interest in it and lifted it to move it closer. “Wait— are those crisps?” Dan asked. 

“Yes,” said Charlie with pride and Kyle nodded in appreciation. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, Dan. I figured you were better than _vanilla bean_ ,” Charlie wrinkled his nose at Woody, “but wasn’t sure if you were ready for crisps in your ice cream, so I thought I’d best leave your ordering up to you.”

Dan nodded. “That’s fair. What’s that you’re having?”

“Ah. Cookie au lait. Which, as our American pals would say, is just like dipping a cookie into your cup of morning joe. It’s delightful.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Dan looked back to the queue which was beginning to grow alarmingly long though it seemed to be moving quickly enough. “Let me get to it then. You lot won’t mind waiting for me?”

Kyle looked up, his spoon full of ice cream. “Of course not.”

Dan took his place at the back of the queue and began to study the menu. He paused and felt the corners of his mouth twitch up at seeing a scoop called ‘ode to joy.’ Thinking back to Kyle’s earlier declaration of happiness, Dan felt as if that might be the most appropriate choice. 

When Woody initially roped them into attending the game, Dan hadn’t been sure what to expect. He loathed sports, but unable to resist the temptation of time spent with Kyle and reluctant to waste another sunny day alone, he had agreed to come along. He’d worried that there was a fair chance that he would regret the decision, but he was glad his pessimism was off base. He hadn’t had to join in the game, his chat with Charlie had been a good one and he smothered a smile now, thinking of Kyle. 

He looked over to the table that the others were gathered around and could hear their amusement. Dan was no closer to figuring Kyle out, but maybe there was a chance he was wrong about the Charlie thing. Maybe they were just mates. Surely, if they were as seriously involved as Dan had feared, Kyle would not have gone along with the woman’s mistaken assumption earlier. Kyle had taken it in stride, so it was possible there was a chance that—

Dan’s thoughts skidded to an absolute halt as he watched Charlie extend his ice cream cone to Kyle, offering him a taste. With no hesitation, Kyle leaned forward and honest-to- _fucking_ -God licked it.

Dan continued to watch in shock as Kyle filled his spoon with his own sundae and held it up to Charlie. Instead of taking the spoon from Kyle (or heaven forbid, using his own fucking spoon), Charlie ate directly from Kyle’s. 

His heart pounding, Dan jerked his eyes away. It was such a deeply intimate thing they had done that it was almost as if he had walked in on them in the throes of passion. Dan winced because, of course, his stupid, _poetic,_ idiot brain had come up with ‘throes of passion’ when there was another verb that expressed the action with a much more explicit clarity. 

He shifted so that his back was to the group, guessing that his face was perfectly mirroring his thoughts, as it always did. He knew his only way through this mess was to fake it. To act as if it didn’t affect him in the least to have his suspicions so emphatically confirmed. To act as if he wasn’t the biggest fool in the universe for not believing it the first time ‘round when the evidence had always been apparent.

“What’ll it be?” asked a perky voice, jarring Dan out of his mental spiral. He looked up to see a teen donning an apron with the store’s name and an ice cream scoop.

Abandoning all thoughts of having an ‘ode to joy’ because seriously, fuck _that_ , Dan shrugged and said, “chocolate.”

“Sir, which one? We have a lot of—“

“Just the most boring, basic one you’ve got,” Dan replied.

\- - - 

Dan walked into his empty flat, struggling to keep from acknowledging the obvious symbolism to be made about his empty life. Rationally, he knew that it wasn’t the truth. He knew that there were people who loved him, who thought he mattered— they all just happened to live on the other side of the fucking ocean. 

He was being dramatic, but he didn’t care. He had no interest in trying to turn his thoughts into something more positive. Facts were facts and the blindingly _obvious_ fact was that as far as Kyle was concerned, Dan was an absolute joke. He had been an idiot and while that was often the case, it didn’t normally smart as much as it did now. 

Without bothering to untie the laces, Dan kicked off his shoes and slumped on his sofa. There in front of him, laying on the table, was his notebook. He slid it closer, grabbing a pen as he did and opened it to the last thing he had written before he left that morning. He frowned at how naive the lines sounded:

_  
We’ll make our agreements  
About when to meet  
_

Rolling his eyes at everything—his earlier self, Kyle, Charlie— he uncapped his pen and thought about the outcome of their meeting. Dan was the first to beg off after half heartedly eating his ice cream. There was a moment he glanced back and thought perhaps Kyle had looked up at him, but he couldn’t be sure and what did it matter, anyway? He bent over the paper and scribbled:

_  
And I’ll leave you in the doorway  
_

Dan only had himself to blame for all of it. Aside from inappropriately consuming food like some sort of porn star, Kyle had done nothing wrong. 

Dan brought his index fingers up under his glasses and lightly pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Taking a deep breath, he tried to clear everything from his brain— the dramatics, the neurosis, the obsession. He could do this, he was a rational person. He was British. He taught English, for Christ’s sake. He could reason his way out of this debacle. 

Despite his distress and constant worrying, nothing of any real significance had occurred. There was no real damage.

He very much doubted that Kyle thought of him—which was completely normal and to be expected. They were co-workers. Pals. Mates. That was fine. It was fan-fucking-tastic. One could never have too many friends. 

Dan’s phone buzzed with a new message, breaking his concentration. His brain instantly added five hours to his current time; it was far too late for anyone back home to be texting him. It had to be someone from the group chat. His phone continued vibrating with increased intensity before he finally reached for it. Whomever it was had a lot to say. He wasn’t sure that he had the energy to deal with anyone, but the messages were still coming fast and furiously. 

Dan turned the phone over in his hand and was met with what had to be twenty or so pictures of him and Kyle. Kyle was still sending them in their private chat while Dan scrolled, staring and analyzing each one as he passed them. Despite everything, he felt something clinch inside his chest, followed by a warmth that spread all the way to his idiot toes. 

A series of texts from Kyle followed the photos:

**  
couldn’t decide so I’m sending them all**

**they’re so pretty I’m tempted to set one as a lock screen**

****

Dan blinked at Kyle’s words, trying and failing in his efforts to not read too much into it. Exchanging his phone for his pen, he returned to his notebook and wrote

_I’ll come back to haunt you_

He wasn’t sure he was ever going to rid his head of Kyle. 

He wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuckity fuck we enjoyed writing this one. Thanks to everyone who's been reading. 
> 
> Also today is written_you_down's birthday so please bring on the love.


	3. Study Group

“I thought you left most of your books in storage.” Ralph’s face filled the screen of Dan’s laptop with an expression full of undisguised judgement. 

“I did!” Dan insisted. “You were there. You—”

“Nearly broke my bloody back, helping you move the boxes is what I did. That’s not something a lad just forgets.” Ralph leaned closer to the camera as he continued to scrutinize Dan’s flat. 

Dan rolled his eyes. “I can practically see up your nostril, mate. When I said it’d be nice to see your face again, this isn’t quite what I had in mind. What are you getting at?”

“Let me see your place, pick the laptop up, Dan. Just a quick spin will do.” 

Dan huffed, but did as requested. He held the computer by the keyboard and faced the monitor out. Standing from the small sofa he turned slowly and showed Ralph the rest of the living room, with its built-in shelves full of books. With a few steps he arrived at the counter of the tiny kitchen, with its minimalist appliances and open pantry shelves that matched the living room’s. Next was the washroom, unremarkable except for its absurdly small size. Then, finally, the bedroom that barely contained the bed, nightstand, and dresser. He could hear Ralph ‘tsking’ and mumbling under his breath. 

With an awkward motion, Dan turned the screen back to him. “That’s it, the grand tour. It’s even smaller than the last flat.” He sat back onto the sofa and returned his laptop to the coffee table. 

Ralph shook his head. “You’ve got books piled _everywhere._ ”

Ralph might’ve had a point, but Dan couldn’t help feeling defensive. “You say that like it’s something insidious. Books are wonderful. They’re educational, they’re—”

“They’re fucking heavy. I know this first hand. What will you do when it’s time to come home? It’ll break your heart to leave them behind. I know how you are.”

Dan rolled his eyes again, Ralph really was in rare form. “I’m not as bad as all that, I—”

“I bet you’ve sniffed every last one of them.”

“What’s that got to do, what does it matter if I—”

Ralph sighed. “It’s fine, mate. I just hate to picture you holed up by yourself every night, reading. You’re in America. You’ve wanted to do this for the longest time, saved your money for it… I just want you to make the most of it, is all.”

“I’ve been doing things!” Dan insisted.

“With people?”

“Yes, mum, with people. I’ve gone to happy hours with some blokes from work, watched football, might be going to some gigs soon.” Dan listed them in a casual sort of way, careful to omit any mention of Kyle, but Ralph still seemed to be studying him.

“What blokes?”

“Woody who teaches phys ed, the musicteacherKyle. Oh. And Charlie.”

“You watched football with them?” Ralph raised an eyebrow. “You? Voluntarily watching football?”

“Technically, I watched it with Charlie. The others were playing.” 

Ralph appeared deep in thought, though there was no way Dan had given him enough information to draw any sort of conclusions. “Hmm,” he finally said.

“What?” 

“Who asked you to the maybe gigs?”

“Charlie.”

Ralph nodded and gave what Dan was sure Ralph thought was a wise expression. “So, who the fuck is Charlie?”

Dan had to suppress a groan. “The kindest torture device ever,” he mumbled. 

“What now?!” 

“A friend of Kyle’s,” he answered meekly.

“Mmm-hmmm…” Ralph managed, studying Dan curiously. “So on a scale of one to you’ve-already-started-picking-out-names-for-your-children, how in love with musicteacherKyle would you say that you are?”

Dan froze. “How, I, I didn’t even _say_ anything about—“

Ralph tapped the side of his head with a single finger. “I always know. Now don’t avoid the question.”

Understanding that there was no point in lying to Ralph, Dan replied, “Dunno. Some days it’s a 7, others a solid 9 and a half.”

“Mate.”

Dan rubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s hopeless. No point to any of it.”

Ralph winced in sympathy. “He doesn’t go for blokes?”

“Oh, he goes for blokes. Just blokes called Charlie.” 

“Ah. So they’re...?”

Dan lifted his hands, turning his wrists in the universal gesture for ‘fuck if I know.’ “It seems as if they’ve known each other since the dawn of time. They’re _always_ together. They write music together, do gigs together, they very inappropriately share food with one another—“

“Always snogging? That sort of thing?”

“Well, no. Not that. At least that I’ve _seen_.”

Ralph shook his head from side to side. “You sound a bit miserable about it all, mate. I bet you’ve been writing like someone possessed.”

“I can’t shut it off! I’m even jotting this rubbish down after classes. Just out there in the public, for anyone to see. It’s fucking terrifying. Kyle popped in the classroom the other day and saw what I was up to. I almost had a heart attack.” 

Ralph winced in sympathy. “What’d he say?”

Dan smiled at the memory. “Nothing at the time, but he brought it up later. Wants to read it. He, uh, sort of made a big deal out of calling me a poet. Which is absurd. I’m hardly—“

“You plan on showing him the one with the zombie-corpse-optimists?

“They’re not zombies _or_ optimists, I’d be more than happy to take you through the backstory on—“

Ralph groaned in protest. “No.There’s no need. This is you just avoiding the subject again. What’s he look like? I’m obviously googling him the second we’re finished with this chat, but—.”

“He’s, well, he’s tall. Taller than me and…” an image of Kyle striding across the park before the football match materialized in Dan’s head and he struggled with words that were appropriate for a video chat with Ralph. “He’s, he’s— actually, um. I have a picture.”

“Oh jesus. Like one you took stalker style or…”

“It’s of the both of us.” Dan reached for his phone and took no time in locating the photos. He held it directly in front of the camera and watched as Ralph leaned in again. Ralph was quiet for a long moment. “Are you able to see it? I can—”

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Look at the two of you.” Dan smiled and placed his phone back on the sofa as Ralph continued. “It doesn’t look hopeless. Maybe you just need a bit of one on one time.”

“Do I even want to know what you’re insinuating? Because I WISH, mate, I wish—“

“Aye! Woah. No one’s asking you to seduce him. Not just yet anyway.”

“Jesus, Ralph. As if I’m—”

Ralph snapped his fingers as inspiration seemed to hit him. “That text you sent a while back! You said that the field trip included the music teacher, yeah? Did you mean Kyle?”

Dan hesitated, concerned that Ralph was going to deduce exactly how long this fascination over Kyle had gone on. It was one thing to write about it, but quite another thing altogether to admit it aloud. “Erm. Yes.”

“How long til the trip?”

“Next week.” Dan didn’t feel the need to share that it was marked on his calendar with an alarming amount of emojis. 

“Have him over to yours to watch the movie. You can tell him it’s in preparation for the field trip.” Ralph looked positively smug at his idea. 

Dan scowled. “The movie is _nothing_ like the book! Why does everyone always think they can substitute one for the other?”

“I know! I know. Believe me, I know. This isn’t your first time climbing on top of that particular soapbox. But you can’t exactly invite Kyle over to silently read with you, now can you?”

Dan blinked. “That is actually a fair point.”

“At the very least, it’ll give you a chance to square away this business with him and Charlie, see what’s what. Best case scenario, you’ll have your children’s names sorted out by the end of the evening.” Ralph grinned. “Ask him over this Friday after work. Nothing could be easier.

Dan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Actually everything in the world is easier than asking him over. But I’ll do it.”

“Fantastic,” Ralph nodded. “One more thing…”

“What? We’re back onto me seducing him again?”

Ralph ignored him and pointed at the screen. “Where did you get that bracelet?”

\- - - 

Walking down the now-familiar corridor, Dan willed himself to breathe steadily. This was a good idea Ralph had, and he would execute it accordingly. No big deal.

Watching the film after school on Friday would cut into what had become their usual happy hour plans, but they could always go out with the lads after. Or alternatively stay in, order some dinner and discuss the book and the movie, and as long as the mood was right, _then_ —

He cut himself off from that train of thought when he arrived at Kyle’s classroom and heard music. That it was a jazzy tune coming out of speakers and not from the upright piano gave him a twinge of disappointment, but he pushed through it as he poked his head into the room.

Sure enough, Kyle was seated at his desk, focused on the screen of his computer. A second later he clicked the mouse and the music stopped. 

Dan knocked on the doorframe just loudly enough to get his attention. 

“Oh, hey!” Kyle said. “Listen to this! It’s a recording from the Cotton Club in 1922.” He bobbed his head while the song played. “For the field trip,” he added then by way of explanation. 

Dan relaxed immediately. The fact that Kyle was already on the subject would make his request that much easier. “Wicked,” he said, smiling. 

“S’been nice having a new context for these kinda tunes, y’know?” Kyle went on, clicking around some more. 

“Sounds real swell,” Dan offered earnestly, encouraged and delighted by Kyle’s enthusiasm. Then he cleared his throat. “Speaking of Gatsby… You fancy watching the film? In further preparation?” 

“Y’know, that’s not a bad idea,” he answered, smoothing two fingers over his beard. “The soundtrack could also give me a few more bits for the trip.”

Dan nodded, trying to keep his expression even despite his insides doing somersaults at the suggestion being well received. “So… Tomorrow? My place? After school?” 

“You got it,” Kyle said, looking back at his screen again. “Ooh! Come check this out!” He motioned for Dan to join him. “It’s a photo of a Long Island speakeasy where some of the jazz greats used to perform.”

“N-nice,” Dan managed, having rounded he desk to lean over Kyle’s shoulder. Dan’s pulse picked up immediately at their close physical proximity. His brain silently screamed at the rest of him not to get too close, to avoid seeming desperate or obvious. 

This proved easier than expected given how eagerly Kyle clicked around the browser, enthusiastically speaking about the audio-visual relics of the jazz age in 1920s New York that the internet provided. At times he slipped into a sort of musical shorthand that Dan didn’t understand but appreciated nonetheless. Kyle seemingly had the same passion for music that he had for literature and this realization had his stomach doing flips again. 

Eventually Kyle’s phone sounded with a text notification, interrupting their discussion. 

He reached his long, beautifully tattooed arm over to grab the device from the corner of his desk. 

Dan stole the opportunity to study his striking face, accentuated perfectly by his neatly trimmed beard and effortlessly flowing hair.

As Kyle read the messages, his expression slid from relaxed to serious. Putting his phone into his pocket, his posture stiffened. 

“I uh. Didn’t realize how late it was,” he sputtered, closing the open browser windows on the computer. 

Dan looked at his watch and saw that they’d been engrossed in their discourse for a solid forty minutes. “Oh yeah, wow,” he concurred, standing up straight and stretching a bit, one hand awkwardly finding its way to the back of his neck. 

Kyle quietly began packing a few things into his bag. “Unfortunately I have to run, but this was rad,” he said earnestly, despite offering no explanation for where he had to go so urgently. “You might say that now I’m even more _jazzed_ for the trip.” At the bad joke he looked up, eyes sparkling with facetious mischief. 

Dan chuckled easily. “Me too.” 

Kyle slung his bag over his shoulder and pointed to the door. “You walking out too, then?” 

“Uh, sure, yeah.”

They trod in comfortable silence through the empty hallways to the front of the school, Dan’s mood bouyant from the time spent with Kyle. He was growing overtly optimistic about both the film night and the field trip, and tried to tell his brain to calm down before he got ahead of himself. He was at risk of turning into Gatsby with the green light of hope. 

When they reached the front door of the building, Kyle made a point of stepping forward and holding the door for him. 

“I’ve got it, Old Sport,” he said cheekily, and at the reference to the novel Dan nearly dissolved into a puddle right there on the front steps.

The following afternoon couldn’t come fast enough.

\- - - - - - 

The next morning on his free period Dan checked his phone and saw a few messages from his group chat with Kyle and Woody.

 _WOODY_  
A swell Friday to you boys. Another sausage fest happy hour this evening, then?

 _KYLE_  
Dan asked me over his, to watch The Great Gatsby after school. Fancy joining us? Or we could meet you after the film? 

_WOODY_  
Aye I’ll join, so long as it’s all right with Dan. Anyone else gonna be along?

Dan winced, then immediately felt guilty. Naturally he didn’t want to exclude his other friends from this endeavor. Nonetheless, he _had_ hoped to bond with Kyle and thereby suss out the actual nature of his relationship with Charlie. 

He thought for a minute before typing. 

_DAN_  
Fine with me, of course. Anyone else we should invite? Just keep in mind my flat isn’t huge. 

Anticipating Kyle’s likely response, Dan turned his attention to work, namely the few last-minute bits of preparation for that day’s writing seminar. After that he checked his phone to find more messages. 

_KYLE_  
Charlie might have work, but I could ask him? Since we’ve been doing happy hours together and all? Otherwise we can keep it small. 

And there it was. Dan clutched his phone in his hand, his heart clenching as he tried to reconcile the message. Kyle had a point about their now-customary happy hours, and it seemed in his nature to seek inclusion of others for the sake of friendship and merriment. 

_Or he’s simply_ that _averse to being alone with me_ , Dan thinks with a wince.

Meanwhile, Woody had already replied again, continuing the discussion.

 _WOODY_  
Sweet. We’ll bring beers? Maybe order some food?

 _KYLE_  
Sounds like a proper film night to me. 

Dan sighed, inadvertently absorbing some of their enthusiasm.

 _DAN_  
And me as well. Pizza seems easiest to eat while watching, if that suits you both. 

_WOODY_  
Find me someone pizza _doesn’t_ suit and I’ll take care of ‘im.

 _KYLE_  
So quick to violence. But pizza sounds well nice to me. 

What time?

 _WOODY_  
Boys’ footie has a game after school so I can’t make it ‘til about 5:30. 

_DAN_  
5:30 works, yeah. 

_KYLE_  
See you then, old sports. 

Reading that last message reminded Dan of the previous day and he was unable to hold back his ridiculously hopeful grin.

\- - - 

Dan paced his flat as he waited for the others to arrive. His thoughts twisted and turned as he ran his eyes over the place, making sure everything was in place.

It turned out that Woody _and_ possibly Charlie would be joining them for the film. It wasn’t quite what Dan had envisioned when he let his mind wander to this evening—visions that varied wildly, depending on his current mood. Sometimes he pictured him and Kyle sitting on opposite sides of his flat, hands folded neatly in their laps, their eyes on the screen. Other times, the screen flickered unobserved, while their hands went where they pleased, their eyes closed. Woody’s presence eliminated both of those scenarios. On one hand it was a relief, but on the other, it was deflating. 

Dan arranged a pile of books for the millionth time as he reflected. Although the goal of Ralph’s plan of Dan having an evening alone with Kyle was done for, not all was lost. There was still the possibility that Charlie would not be in attendance. A Charlie-less-Kyle was a rare creature and Dan knew its appearance was a success in itself. 

A knock at the door interrupted Dan’s thoughts and he moved to answer it. There, on the other side, stood Kyle. 

Kyle, who was clad in black denim and a patterned button up shirt, and held a six pack of brew. 

Kyle who was, thank fuck, all alone. 

Dan didn’t bother to hide his grin and let it stretch across his face as it pleased. He shifted to the side, making room for Kyle to pass. “Come in, come in.”

Dan watched as Kyle studied his flat, hoping nonsensically that it would gain his approval. Kyle turned back to him, lips turned in an easy smile. “Compared to my place, yours is quite swish. Do my eyes deceive me? Does your furniture _actually_ match?” He walked further into the space. “It does! You are a proper adult, mate!”

Dan laughed. “It came from Ikea, don’t be too impressed.” His eyes followed Kyle as he moved towards the pile of books Dan had just worried over. Kyle scanned the titles without comment and went to built-in shelves.

“You weren’t kidding about liking books,” Kyle said. “You’ve got a library. Surely you didn’t lug all these from home?”

“You sound like Ralph,” Dan replied. “He harbors similar concerns over my, ah, addiction to books. To answer, no. I didn’t pack these— they’re all recent finds since I’ve been here.” He stood next to Kyle and glanced over the volumes. Viewing them from Kyle’s perspective there did seem to be a rather large amount of books given the time he’d been in the city. “I might have a slight problem. I’ll give the both of you that.”

Kyle’s eyebrows raised. “Who’s Ralph?”

“We went to uni together. He plays music, too. His band is brilliant—their gigs are always packed.” 

Dan thought something passed across Kyle’s face then, but it was gone in an instant. “Just your mate?” Kyle asked in a casual tone, as if he were inquiring about the weather.

“He’s my best mate. Like a brother,” Dan confirmed and then reached to the beer in Kyle’s hand. “Here, let me take these.” His fingers brushed against Kyle’s as he hooked them into the pack of drinks. Kyle stayed where he was, allowing the contact to linger and his eyes met Dan’s.

Kyle blinked and asked, “Has he read your poems, this Ralph?”

Dan attempted to process Kyle’s proximity, Kyle’s willingness to lock his hand with Dan’s and his questions about Ralph all at once and was having difficulties sorting it out. Was Kyle jealous? Were they holding hands? Did Kyle want him to come closer still? Surely not. Yet Dan _hoped._

“Not all of the poems, but most,” Dan managed. “Do you—you still want to see them?”

Kyle’s answer was swift. “Yes. Very much.”

Dan swallowed. “Right. Well, I could—”

A loud knock at the door broke Dan’s words apart. He jumped a bit and pulled away from Kyle. Kyle held his ground, stayed near and gave Dan a soft smile.

“My offer still stands. Whenever you feel ready to share them.”

The fact that Kyle had not stepped back was driving Dan to distraction. Kyle was still close enough that all Dan had to do was lean towards him just the slightest amount and—

“Should I?” Kyle wondered.

Before Dan could stop himself, his eyes stared at Kyle’s lips. He forced himself to look up and found that his wayward gaze had not escaped Kyle’s notice. 

“Should you…” Dan repeated, unsure of what precisely Kyle meant but finding dozens of delightful ideas of his own. 

Kyle tilted his head. “Should I open the door before Woody bloody knocks it down?”

“Oh, um yes, if you would. I’ll just take these over to the kitchen, then.” Dan shuffled across the flat and heard Woody’s voice fill the room.

“Look at you, such a good lad, answering the door all cozy like. You look right at home here,” he told Kyle. 

“Ah, you know me, I’m good wherever I am. Regular chameleon,” Kyle replied.

Woody let out a low whistle as he glanced around the flat and then at Dan. “The English teacher certainly likes his books, doesn’t he? Little on the nose, innit it?”

Dan shrugged. “Says the Phys Ed teacher who plays footie on the weekends, and dresses as though a match may break out at any moment.”

Kyle’s laughter bounced around the compact space and Dan cocked his head at Woody in triumph.

“He’s got you there, Wood.” He followed Dan into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “Pizza still on the agenda?”

“Of course,” Dan nodded. “The little place a few blocks away has good reviews on Yelp. Classic New York style pies and such.”

“Toppings?” Woody asked, an eyebrow raised.

“The foodie blogs say that the best true New York slice doesn’t need any toppings,” Kyle very quickly pointed out. 

An amused smirk formed on Dan’s face at the seriousness of his tone. “What do _you_ say, though?” 

“I will never turn down a sausage or meatball slice,” he confessed solemnly.

Dan nodded. “We can make do with one regular pie and one meatball pie, yes? Best of both worlds and such.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Kyle agreed. 

“Do we need to bother with whatever Charlie fancies?” Woody wondered then. “I’m sure he could deliver a full dissertation on pineapples or what have you. Is he going to show up at some point?”

Dan tried to keep the expression on his face neutral as he waited on Kyle’s answer. “He is very much for pineapples on pizza, but there is no accounting for his taste. Besides, I’m not sure if he’ll be here. He had to pull a later shift at work and didn’t know when he would be done.”

“Do we need to wait for him?” Dan asked. He strove to keep a polite tone, one completely devoid of his annoyance that the evening was becoming the Charlie Barnes Show even with the man’s absence. 

Kyle waved the question off. “Nah. He’s got Dan’s address and he’s seen the movie before, so we won’t have to bother catching him up. He’ll either show up or he won’t, no worries.”

Dan fought to keep from rolling his eyes at that. No worries? Right. Aloud, he said “I’ll just place the order then, yeah?”

“Wait much longer and the lot of us will be spending the night here,” Woody commented. “It’ll be too late to make the trek back across the city for either of us.”

Kyle smiled. “Just think of it. You’ll wake tomorrow and find me here, flipping pancakes.”

His displeasure rapidly fading, Dan did think of it. He could see himself padding into the kitchen to find Kyle wrapped in the dark green plaid bathrobe that Dan wore to begin each day. He pictured tufts of Kyle’s hair out of place after a night spent against the pillows on Dan’s bed. He could see Kyle form a lazy smile as he noticed Dan and then beckon him closer. 

Yes, Dan pictured it and he liked everything about it.

“That’d be alright by me,” Dan said.

Kyle lifted an eyebrow and Dan was quick to add, “I love pancakes.”

Woody’s stare shifted between the two of them. “Same, though I’m not sure I’m included in this little brunch.”

Suddenly Dan pictured Woody joining them at this imaginary breakfast, pulling up a chair at the table with one hand, gripping Dan’s favorite mug with the other, grumbling over the score of the previous night’s football match. 

Dan shot real-life-Woody a look and Kyle laughed. “Of course I’ll make you pancakes, Woody.”

“Here’s hoping it doesn’t come to that. Order the pizza, Dan.”

\- - - 

When Dan went about furnishing his apartment, his immediate concern had been in regards to space. Space was something he simply did not have. With that in mind, a futon couch to stretch out on and an overstuffed chair to curl up in with a book seemed more than adequate. 

Now that there were a total of three men (two of whom were on the tall side of things) gathered about, the arrangement was a bit awkward. The pizzas were piled on his coffee table, but the seating arrangements had yet to be determined.

Woody glanced at his options and came to a quick decision. “Alright if I take the chair, then?”

“Course,” Dan nodded. As he and Kyle took their places on the sofa, he was fairly certain that Woody was watching the both of them. Ignoring him, Dan sank into the cushions and Kyle did the same. “Do we want to go ahead with the film since Wood is in such a rush?”

Woody used one hand to guide a slice of pizza to his mouth, while he used the other to cheerfully raise a middle finger at Dan. Taking that as an affirmative, Dan began searching through his phone to synch everything to his telly. “So has everyone seen this film before? Any need to maintain silence whilst we watch it or—”

Kyle glanced up from his pizza, “Seen it. Feel free to dive into any and all symbolism, metaphors and the like, go full on English-teacher-mad with it, if you like.”

“Not my first viewing either,” Woody added. “So if either of you lads need to discuss how beautiful Leo is, go right ‘head.”

“That’s interesting, seeing that it’s you who’s bringing up how attractive he is,” Kyle noted. “Anything you feel the need to share with the class?”

“I’m an open book,” Woody grinned and then looked between the two of them again. “No secrets here.”

Dan’s face flushed with heat and he wondered how difficult it would be to forcibly remove Woody from the premises. Glancing at Woody’s arms he thought better of it and felt it was well past time that they started the film. Fumbling with his phone, he finally managed to bring the movie up and nearly sighed with relief as the screen filled with the familiar JG insignia. 

“Would it be alright if I turned the lights down a bit?” Kyle wondered. “There’s a bit of a glare.”

Dan nodded and Woody shrugged, but made sure he caught Dan’s eye. Then that absolute wanker had the audacity to wink at him. Woody was quickly becoming the little brother that Dan had never ever wanted. 

Kyle stood and turned off a lamp and the overhead light, leaving the room mostly in darkness. He sat back down on the sofa and perhaps it was Dan’s imagination, but Kyle seemed to be positioned much closer to him than he was previously. 

Dan did his best not to think much of it, took a bite of his slice and kept his attention on the onscreen discussion between Nick Carraway and his psychiatrist. “This bit isn’t in the book, but it’s not a bad set up for a film. Suppose it’s more interesting than just watching him clatter about on a typewriter.”

“Bit odd watching Spiderman play in a period piece, yeah?” Woody replied. 

“Wide contrast in commentary, but both are excellent points,” Kyle laughed.

Dan shook his head in amusement and felt relaxed for the first time all evening. It felt as if the pressure had suddenly evaporated.

The film continued, one scene moved into another and soon Daisy Buchanan made her on screen appearance. The camera panned out and revealed a room full of flowing curtains, waving as if they were alive, as if they were dancing, powered by a gentle wind. It was a stunning shot. Dan was so wrapped up in it, that he hardly noticed Kyle reaching to the table to grab his drink. It wasn’t until Kyle actually shifted his place on the sofa that Dan realized how closely they were sitting.

Certain that any movement he made would repel Kyle, he kept his eyes glued to the screen. It was subtle, hardly anything at all, but there Kyle suddenly was, his knee just beside Dan’s, his elbow resting lightly against Dan’s side. Dan waited long enough to be sure it wasn’t just incidental contact and then he leaned, just the smallest amount, against Kyle.

Almost too nervous to take a breath, Dan tried to act as if his heart was not running full sprint away with him. He was certain that Kyle would retreat to the far end of the sofa and settle the whole thing once and for all. A minute passed, then another, the movie played on and still Kyle stayed. 

Without moving his head, Dan looked at Kyle. The light from the screen flickered across his face. He seemed to sense Dan’s gaze and his eyes shifted subtly from the movie to Dan. The corner of his mouth quirked up and Dan had no hope of containing the grin that grew across his own face. 

Kyle turned his attention back to the film, but sank back further into the sofa. He shifted some of his weight onto Dan as he leaned against him. Dan had no thoughts of anything other than what was happening next to him. When Jay Gatsby finally made his triumphant appearance onscreen, fireworks exploding behind him, champagne glass in hand, Dan could not give a single fuck. Who needed any of those things when he had a bottle of brew, Kyle pressed against his side and something that felt a lot like fireworks exploding inside of his chest?

He lost track of time and was only dimly aware of Woody standing from his chair and announcing that he needed a refill. Dan heard movements and the sounds of what he thought was Woody opening and closing cabinets. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice speak loudly that he finally snapped out of his Kyle-induced-trance.

“Well, well,” the voice said. “Isn’t _this_ just cozy?”

Backlit by the glow from the kitchen with a small smile on his face, stood Charlie.


	4. #VladimirTostoffsJazzHistoryoftheWorld!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lovely day for a field trip, innit!”

Dan’s least favourite scene in all of  The Great Gatsby was the death of Myrtle Wilson.

Sure, Gatsby's demise was tragic, but it was one that everyone saw coming from the moment they opened the book. No one expected Gatsby to grow old and gray with Daisy at his side; no one expected his dreams to be made into reality. 

No, it was Myrtle that always got to Dan. 

The way the ‘other’ woman met her fate by running towards the very thing, the very man that she loved. Everytime Dan reached that particular scene, he turned the pages a bit more slowly. As if that could somehow delay the inevitable. As if not reading it somehow kept this poor woman and her hopes alive. 

But it was inevitable. Each time he read the novel, Myrtle ran towards the flashy yellow convertible. Each time, she threw her hands up into the air, confident her love would see her, swoop her into his arms and into a better life than the one she had known.

Each and every time, the car ignored her requests and left her laying lifeless on the dusty road.

Dan read the scene a million times with a heavy heart. Yet it was only now that Dan actually identified with Myrtle.

He’d let his guard down with Kyle as they watched the film. He’d allowed himself to hope. He’d curled against Kyle to the point that they were practically cuddling. He was Myrtle, running towards disaster with welcoming arms.

Only it wasn’t a flashy car that threatened to bring Dan to a halt. No, it was something infinitely worse. 

Charlie. 

Charlie, who rolled into his flat like a hurricane blowing ashore, disrupting everything that was there before him. 

Dan froze upon hearing Charlie speak, but only for an instant. Before Kyle had time to reject him—to explain to Charlie how it was (how _he_ was) nothing—Dan pulled away from Kyle. He grabbed his phone, paused the movie and was on his feet before Kyle even had a chance to say a single word.

“Charlie!” Dan greeted in a voice that was far too loud and cheerful. “So glad you could make it! Do you want pizza? Beer? Both?” He watched as Charlie and Kyle exchanged a look that seemed loaded with some sort of meaning. As per fucking ususal, it was encrypted in Charlie-Kyle code and was only to be understood by the two of them alone. 

Charlie pulled his gaze from Kyle and onto Dan. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Fully expecting Kyle to reassure Charlie that absolutely nothing had happened, Dan paused. He darted a quick glance to Kyle and found that he had Kyle’s attention. Kyle seemed to be waiting for Dan to reply. 

Dan felt his ears burn and was thankful the lights were still low. “Of course not. You’re more than welcome here. We only started the film because Kyle said you wouldn’t mind.”

Once again, Charlie’s eyes shifted to Kyle’s and they both seemed to communicate with each other without either having said a word. Dan suddenly wished that there was a vehicle thundering his way to put him out of his misery. Maybe Myrtle had it right.

Charlie’s eyes finally settled on Dan and he smiled. “It’s quite alright. I actually could go for a slice and some refreshments. If you’ll kindly point me in the right direction—”

“No, I’ve got it. Take a seat. I’ll fetch a plate and a beer.” Dan forced a grin. 

“Mate, you really don’t have—”

“It’s no problem,” he insisted. Dan’s smile faded the moment his back was to Charlie and Kyle. Dan hurried into the kitchen, more so in desperation to flee the scene than to provide Hurricane Charlie, his very own personal natural disaster, with additional fuel. 

In his agitation, Dan had forgotten all about Woody. Woody now stood before him, leaning against the counter with a grimace on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dan held a hand up. “Don’t. Please don’t say anything.”

Woody blinked and then nodded in solidarity. He moved to the refrigerator to grab a beer as Dan went to fetch a plate for Charlie’s pizza. When Dan glanced back to Woody, he saw that his hand was extended and held a beer. It was as if he sensed that Dan might need some additional assistance to get through the remainder of the night.

“Cheers,” Dan said flatly, taking the brew from Woody.

“Team Dan,” Woody replied in a voice low enough to stay within the kitchen.

For a moment, Dan considered protesting the statement. To convince Woody—fuck, to convince _himself_ — that he wasn’t going toe to toe against an opponent he had no hopes of defeating. But he needed all the help he could get and there was no sense pretending otherwise.

Dan lifted a shoulder. “Thanks. ‘Fraid it’s a bit of a lost cause.”

“Didn’t look that way a minute ago when you were spooning on the sofa. Felt like some sort of a creepy third wheel, didn’t I?” Woody paused in thought and realization washed over his face. “Holy fuck! This was meant to be a date—”

“Not, not a date exactly,” Dan stammered. “You can’t date someone who already has a boyfriend—”

“Have they said as much? Don’t recall them saying so. Maybe it’s time you asked them.”

Dan felt his jaw go slack. “The fuck? No. it’s too late for all that.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Woody shook his head in exasperation. “You could save yourself so much grief if you just _asked_ —”

“Mate. No. There’s no subtle way to do that at this point. Best to just let it alone.” Dan gathered up the plate and drinks, balancing all of it as best he could. “Come on, we need to get back.”

Woody cut his eyes at Dan, still intent on having his opinion heard. “I think you’re wrong.”

Dan huffed. “You’ve made that abundantly clear. I still don’t think we should ask them—”

“No. I mean, I think you’re wrong about _them._ But there’s no reasoning with you, is there?” He looked at Dan’s blank stare and sighed. “Thought as much. Fine, have it your way then. Let’s go on this fucked up double date, shall we?” 

Dan glared at Woody as he strode into his lounge. He half expected to find Kyle and Charlie wrapped around one another and tried to prepare for the sight of them finally confirming his suspicions.

Instead, it felt as though he were interrupting some sort of row. There was an underlying current of tension pulsing through the room and because Dan was the saddest bastard of all time, it gave him hope. 

Charlie was sat on the sofa, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. Kyle was leaning against the wall some distance away. Both men arranged their faces into forced smiles upon seeing Dan and Woody. 

Charlie stood quickly to take the plate and brew from Dan. As Charlie reached in, Dan was flooded with the scent of hazelnut and coffee. How the fuck was he to compete against someone who smelled like all things good and pure in the world? 

Charlie glanced up at Dan. “So, I should thank you for allowing me to invade both your home and film night.”

“No need.” Dan shrugged it off. He really, _really_ couldn’t abide Charlie being polite. Not now. Not when Dan was spending so much time plotting the most effective ways to bring ruin to his domestic bliss.

“What do you lads think about getting back to the film, then?” Woody’s voice broke through the awkwardness that cloaked the room. He reclaimed Dan’s chair and sprawled out as if he owned the place.

Kyle nodded curtly. “Yes, please.” He moved from the wall and back to the sofa. As he settled his long limbs into the space he’d previously occupied, he raised his chin and met Dan’s stare. He leaned his head to the right in a silent invitation for Dan to join him. 

Without comment, Dan accepted the request. Ignoring the fact that the top of his ears were tingling and most likely fire engine red, he sat next to Kyle. Before he could work out where exactly to place his arms and legs so they weren’t too close or too obviously far from Kyle, he heard Charlie’s voice ring out again.

“Squish over, would you, Kyle? There’s enough space for everyone so long as you don’t mind being in the middle.” Charlie gave Kyle what seemed to be an extra toothy smile.

Regardless of what Kyle truly felt about being stuck in the middle of this clusterfuck (and Jesus, had Charlie stumbled onto the truth with that seemingly innocent remark—in his spare time, the man probably wrote poetry like William bloody Shakespeare), Kyle did as asked. He shifted to his right and there was no place else for Dan to run to. He had no choice to but to sit with Kyle’s body overlapping his own.

What had felt so right earlier, now felt out of place as it came in the form of a suggestion from Charlie. Dan knew he was being petulant, but he wanted it to be Kyle’s decision to be near him. 

Dan restarted the film, but found that he couldn’t relax as he had before. Earlier, it felt as if they were moving forward in tandem. Now he felt as if he were pedaling backwards and doing so all on his own. 

The movie shifted to the scene of Gatsby taking Daisy and Nick around his enormous estate. Everything was elaborate and done with the express intent of impressing Daisy with the things Gatsby could afford to give her. Gatsby tore through his wardrobe in glee, raining shirt and after expensive shirt down upon her as she laughed with unbridled joy.

“Imagine being able to do that,” Kyle mused. “To have so much of something, that you genuinely do not give a single shit about what happens to them.”

Charlie swallowed a giant bite of pizza. “They’re just clothes. She’ll see straight ruddy through it if there’s nothing actually inside of him.”

Dan frowned in thought—Charlie wasn’t wrong. Still, it wasn’t as if Dan were in any particular rush to support Charlie in an argument against Kyle.

Woody snorted. “You can’t act as if you think that sort of thing doesn’t matter, mate. Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve taken some care in how you look. Your shirt was pressed and tucked when you were just watching us play football.”

Dan’s frown deepened. He wasn’t sure if Woody was going after Charlie for his benefit, but it wasn’t right.

Charlie didn’t seem offended in the least. “My dear sir, that is not the same thing at all. Some of us are simply trying to—”

“That’s so the point!” Kyle laughed. “You have a million shirts! We could go back to yours right now and you’d have enough to toss over all of us,” he pointed at the screen. “ _Just_ like old sport here.”

“I think Charlie is speaking to the excess of it all,” Dan finally said, his eyes locked straight ahead to the television. His tone was quiet, but it still drew everyone’s attention. “It’s too much and Gatsby does it because he knows underneath it all, he’s not someone she could ever love. Everything about their relationship is built on falsehoods, on lies. Gatsby knows this and overcompensates to the point of desperation.”

Dan felt the stares of all the three men as they sat in silence. 

“I could never have said it so well, but yes,” Charlie agreed and Dan moved his sight from the screen to Charlie. He watched as Charlie reached around to grab his shoulder and give it a squeeze of support. 

Kyle followed the movement and stared at Charlie’s grip on Dan. Almost as if he felt Dan’s gaze, he glanced up. Dan did a quick study of Kyle’s face and he looked—well, Kyle looked dejected. 

_Join the bloody club_ Dan thought. 

Powerless to reassure Kyle (or, for that matter, his own damn brain) Dan shifted his focus back to the film.

\- - - 

On Saturday morning, a light rain tapped on Dan’s living room window. It was as clear a signal as any that the outside world was not worth engaging, and so he moodily lazed in his pajamas, finishing the leftover pizza for brunch and watching Twin Peaks on Netflix for the fortieth time. 

A few episodes of his comfort show served as the perfect escape from reality, until his phone chimed with a message. 

It was Ralph, offering only the curious-wide-eyes emoji. 

Dan rolled his eyes and groaned, knowing full well that his friend wanted a report on the film night encounter that he’d suggested. 

DAN  
 _Don’t even ask, man_

RALPH  
 _That bad, mate?!_

DAN  
 _Flew too close to the sun, dug my own grave, made my own bed to lay in,_ et al

RALPH  
 _Ah well. I’m sorry to hear that. At the very least, you have the beginnings of a very broody, self-loathing poem, complete with mythological reference and everything. Should cushion the fall a bit._

He chuckled, then considered Ralph’s words more seriously. When Charlie showed up, Dan _had_ indeed felt like he was falling from the highest of aspirational heights, his metaphorical wings evaporating and leaving him helpless but to crash to his fate. 

Reaching for his notebook, he let his brain delve completely into the myth and spit out whatever it came up with. Things might have gotten a little out of hand, extending the Icarus metaphor to someone wasting their entire life as an uncertain future stretches before them. 

When he finished, he noticed that the rain had slowed to barely a drizzle, and a hint of mid-afternoon sun was peeking its way through the clouds. Resolving to improve his own conditions as well, Dan cleaned up the remnants of his meal and jotted down the beginnings of a grocery list. He decided he would take a shower, put on actual pants, and spend his evening doing shopping and other casual errands around the neighborhood. 

Once he was dressed, he saw that he’d missed a text from Woody.

WOODY  
 _You good, mate?_

Dan winced at the reminder that last night had gone so poorly Woody needed to check in on him. Earlier in the day, he might have offered some further lament about the film night gone wrong, but he truly did feel better after his texts with Ralph and subsequent written catharsis. At any rate, he appreciated Woody’s message and didn’t feel the need to indulge in more moping, especially when the other man had been an eyewitness to the metaphorical car crash of the previous evening. 

DAN  
 _Can’t complain. You?_

WOODY  
 _Fine, thanks._

“ _Woody is typing_ ” appeared at the top of the screen, so Dan waited patiently for further messages.

WOODY  
 _Some of the footie crowd is going on a night out, starting at a proper pub downtown - you should join. Put on some trousers and get out of your head a bit._

DAN  
 _I_ am _wearing trousers, thank you very much._

Woody didn’t need to know that he’d only just put them on a few moments ago, he reasoned. 

WOODY  
 _100 adulting points for you, then._

_Seriously, you should come out. I’d offer to return the favor of hosting an educational film night, but I doubt you’re interested in a video tutorial on my upcoming Health class unit on STIs._

DAN  
 _Those poor kids, learning about herpes and syphilis from a man they call “Coach Woody”._

WOODY  
 _To say nothing of the human anatomy lessons later in the year._

_So… meet us at 7:00? You’ll have plenty of time to put a kilo of product in your hair and grab the subway to The Village. Spend time with some blokes who you don’t fancy within an inch of your life._

Dan reasoned that even if he was Myrtle in one respect, he could in this instance make like Nick and get rip-roaring drunk from sheer embarrassment.

\- - - 

Dan set off for school bright and early on Monday. As promised, the night out with Woody and his football mates had distracted him from other pending life complications. After pushing through his hangover and buying some groceries for the week, he spent an hour on Sunday brushing up on all his notes and plans for the trip, so at the very least he was excited to finally put them into action. 

On his morning walk, he passed a Starbucks with its typical huge line. Not wanting to be late for the field trip on account of his caffeine addiction, he popped across Broadway to a shop called Tea Total, which he imagined must have some coffee as well as a less populous queue. 

Sure enough, a mere two minutes later he accepted his medium regular black coffee from a wispy-haired young woman behind the counter. 

He waited til he was outside on the sidewalk to remove the plastic stopper and sip from the hole in the cup’s lid. 

The weak taste of the brew made him wince, and he gazed longingly across the street at the Starbucks, wishing he’d anticipated this development and left more time for the coffee stop. 

Rounding the corner onto W.112th, he saw the yellow school bus parked in front of the building, a crowd of students scattered around on the sidewalk.

Sue also stood nearby, talking to a woman who appeared to be the bus driver. 

“Dan, good morning!” As usual Sue was dressed like a cool, academic fairy godmother, her trousers a bright red that coordinated with her pinstriped blazer and paisley scarf. 

“Good morning, hello,” he says, nodding politely at Sue and the other woman. 

“Ready when you are, ma’am,” the bus driver said before excusing herself. 

“Excellent!” The principal turned to Dan. “Are you ready? Excited for the big day?” 

He blew out a breath. “I hope so.”

“I’m certain that you’ve prepared most conscientiously to tie the trip to critical study of the text.”

“Probably too much, if we’re being honest,” he admitted. “Just hoping the kids respond to it.”

“I have no doubt they’ll be delighted by the experience,” she assured him earnestly, and it had the intended effect of relaxing him somewhat.

Meanwhile Sue glanced about at the gathered students. “I’ll get my list out in a minute but it appears we’re only waiting on a couple more kids. And also Ky—”

“Lovely day for a field trip, innit!” 

Kyle appeared behind the principal, his face bright and sunny as the September morning. 

“Absolutely!” Sue agreed with equal cheer. 

The music teacher’s eyes lingered on Dan, his expression now somewhat expectant as well. 

“Hey. Yeah,” he managed in agreement, unable to keep the small grin off his face simply at seeing Kyle again, regardless of Friday’s bit of awkwardness. 

Somehow, Kyle’s smile grew even bigger as their eyes stayed locked, making Dan’s chest explode with a longing he was trying (hopelessly) to keep at bay. 

Meanwhile Sue had taken out a clipboard and was checking down the list of students’ names. “Looks like we have everybody,” she said, drawing their attention back to her and away from one another. “Oh, and I should mention that on trips we usually have at least one teacher sit at the back of the bus, to give us some supervisory eyes in that area. I don’t anticipate any especially wrought shenanigans, but it can’t hurt,” she explained wisely. 

“I’m on it,” Kyle said immediately. “I can tell the kids about the social media hashtag I came up with for today’s adventure, and start on some jazz history.”

“Excellent!” Sue responded brightly. Then she studied Dan for a brief second, offering a kind, subdued smile before moving on. “Once we get everyone onto the bus and set off, you can each make some introductory remarks about your plans for the trip.”

Dan nodded. “Sounds good. I’m— we’re just following your lead here, really,” he confessed sheepishly. 

“It’ll all be fantastic, I’m sure,” she insisted warmly. 

With that she stepped onto the first step of the bus, using it as a platform from which to address the group. “Hello, good morning friends!” Her tone was somehow authoritative and compassionate at the same time, instantly drawing the kids in. A few parents were also about, standing on the outskirts of the assembled gaggle of teens as Sue reminded everyone of the day’s agenda and scheduled return time in the afternoon. 

While she spoke, Dan snuck another look at Kyle. He was watching Sue attentively, eyes bright with a smile that looked– a bit uneasy, actually. But then as soon as it had appeared the hint of insecurity was gone, replaced by Kyle’s usual alluring smirk. 

Finishing her other remarks, Sue glanced over at them. “Kyle, since you’ve volunteered to ride toward the back why don’t you head on first?” 

“Happy to! Hashtag VladimirTostoff’sJazzHistoryoftheWorld!” he exclaimed, a fist in the air as he flashed a cheekily exaggerated grin and headed for the bus. A chorus of muffled giggles sputtered through the crowd of students, who formed a queue to follow him onto the bus. 

From her spot next to him Sue chuckled quietly. “Ahh, he is something, huh?” she said with an amused sigh. 

Dan wasn’t sure how to react. “He… yes, I suppose.” 

By then it was their turn to board the bus and Dan took one of the remaining seats right up front, while Sue grabbed the other. After that Sue did a final head count and told the bus driver to set off for the Sands Point Preserve. 

From his seat, over the dull roar of miscellaneous chatter, Dan heard Kyle’s deep voice as the music teacher held court with some students at the back of the bus. In completely easygoing fashion he made sure the kids were following him on Instagram, told them about the ridiculous hashtag and some of the jazz works he’d be talking about later, and fielded a few random questions about his own background...the answers to which Dan may have filed away later for personal reference. 

Dan unzipped his backpack, removing his folder of notes and flipping through them. He needed something to do, more so than the actual review, and therefore closed the folder rather quickly. By then the bus had made its way across Harlem and onto the Triboro Bridge. How one bridge connected three boroughs that are all on different masses of land was quite perplexing, and Dan found himself looking out the window to see if he could make sense of where they were geographically, aside from the vague notion of “heading towards Long Island”. 

The windows on the other side of the bus now offered a brilliant view of the Manhattan skyline. In turning to look, Dan also caught a glimpse of Kyle easily carrying on his discussion with the students. With a wince Dan realized that he might never have that same level of comfort; as well as the students had received him thus far, it didn’t come naturally to be so relaxed and forthcoming. 

“I’d love for you to get your intro in as well, but I almost feel like we shouldn’t interrupt whatever’s going on back there.” 

Dan looked over at Sue to find the principal grinning wryly as she also observed the scene at the other end of the bus. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Dan said, somewhat relieved that he wouldn’t have to immediately follow Kyle’s effortless feat in capturing the kids’ attention. “I mean– I’m good to wait ‘til we get there. No hurry on my end.”

Sue gave him the same curious look as before, on the sidewalk beside the school, then spoke carefully. “Y’know, our educational model encourages interpersonal bonding between teachers and students, but every educator has their own style and their own way of connecting with the kids.”

Dan felt himself blushing at the more serious tone underlying Sue’s latest words of reassurance. “Uh, yes, of course, understood.” 

“Once we get to the preserve, the scene will be set and the kids will be thoroughly entranced by your insights,” she continued sensibly.

“Hope so,” he breathed. It was a tall order, really. Compared to literature, music would always be more relatable and palatable and sexy - and, Dan realized with even more heat rising to his face, all of that could be said about Kyle in comparison to him.

At that exact moment an uproarious round of laughter erupted from the back of the bus, as if to emphasize precisely how difficult Dan’s task would be. 

_No pressure at all_ , he thought to himself with a groan.


	5. Field Trip!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So I know that you love books. This one isn’t anything special, just a beat up copy, but you can keep it if you’d like.”
> 
> “I’d love that— as long as you’re sure.”

\- - - - 

“So, now that we’ve been inside the mansions, doesn’t it drive home the magnitude of the events in the text?” Dan looked out over the crowd of students, assembled in front of one of the large buildings. They’d been given tours of the stately homes by preserve employees and he wanted to summarize before they broke for lunch.

The kids, for their part, were attentive but not necessarily responsive to his (admittedly rhetorical) question. 

Making eye contact with Kyle for the briefest of seconds, Dan thought back to the movie scene they’d discussed at his flat on Friday night. He cleared his throat and continued. 

“Excess,” he began, trying to tie in a broad theme they’d also discussed in class. “Gatsby acquired a home like this, specifically intent on making a spectacle of his wealth because he thought that was the best way to get Daisy’s attention. Nick described it as ‘hope’, but doesn’t this make clear that Jay was simply mad with desperation?!”

The students offered a few tentative nods, along with some nervous giggles and glances at one another. 

In light of the underwhelming response, he found himself nervously glancing at Sue. 

She stepped forward. “Well, that gives us all something to think about during lunch break, doesn’t it?” Her eyes regarded Dan warmly, though her expression also contained a subtle indication that they’d best move on. 

At that, a ripple of energy flowed through the crowd of students – the unmistakable, barely-contained antsiness of a group of teenagers about to be set free from direct adult supervision. 

“So. We’ll take 45 minutes and meet back here at 12:30,” she said with a nod, prompting the students to disperse, to the point where she had to raise her voice to call after them. “Please stay in this general area! We’ll have some time later for the woods and the beach so no need to wander off!”

After these final instructions the students practically sprinted away. They spread out in different directions across the grass expanse of the picnic area, joining the queues for the small food kiosk and a couple of food trucks stationed around the perimeter of the adjacent parking lot.

Dan watched them, then meandered along at a slower pace towards one of the food trucks that looked acceptable. When he got closer he saw that Sue was already in the queue. 

“This one’s recommended then?” he asked as he sidled up behind her. 

“Highly,” she confirmed with a smile. “I’m going to skip the _elote_ on a stick today, lest I make a mess and embarrass myself in front of the kids.”

Dan snickered. “Understood. They can be a tough crowd.”

Sue’s trademark knowing smile made an appearance. “Ay now, _calmate_ ,” she offered firmly. “I was just about to inform you that it seems to be going quite well.” 

“Maybe for others,” he mumbled, not caring if it sounded self-indulgently whiny. 

Dan wasn’t even sure that Sue heard him as she stepped up to order from the truck’s window. He took a break from his one-person pity party and studied the posted menu himself, reviewing the small list of Spanish words. The combo meal option consisting of a tamale, an empanada, and a drink sounded like the safest option, so he went with that when it was his turn to order. 

Afterward he followed the informal protocol of stepping back and waiting for his order number (53, per his receipt) to be called. In doing so he glanced around the area, wondering where Kyle was but not seeing him anywhere, eventually settling in a spot next to Sue once again. 

“Certainly you can tell that your students are interested in this trip as pertains to their understanding of the novel,” the principal started right in. “They might not be demonstrably enthralled, but they’ve been attentive to the preserve employees’ presentations, as well as to your remarks.” 

“True enough,” he conceded, though he couldn’t help but think of Kyle and how enthusiastic the kids seemed to be about his contributions to the trip. “Their comments in class have been rather insightful so I was hoping for more vocal responses here, but perhaps that was an overly optimistic aspiration.” 

“Fifty-one!” the young woman working in the food truck called, bringing someone else’s food to the side of the large front opening. 

Meanwhile, Sue nodded. “It takes them time to digest an experience and synthesize it into a further understanding of the material.” She paused. “ _Other subjects_ might lend themselves to a more instantaneous response, but don’t let that distract you from your objectives. ‘Eyes on your own paper’ and all that.” 

“Hehe, yeah,” Dan chuckled, scuffing the ground with his foot in embarrassment at her pointed comment. “I just… hope they make the most of this opportunity.” 

“Mmm, well. Have a look around in a few minutes,” she advised. “I’m sure you’ll see quite a few of them with their notebooks and novels out, happi--” 

“Fifty-two!” She was interrupted by the next number being called and glanced down at her receipt. 

“Oh, that’s me!” she said excitedly, hurrying over to get her food and then heading off in search of some place to eat it. 

A moment later Dan’s number was called and he allowed himself to leave his professional concerns aside and focus on how delicious lunch was going to taste. 

He saw that Sue had settled on a bench, her food container sat next to her while she animatedly talked into her cell phone. Surveying the rest of the picnic area and finding that all the tables and benches were occupied, Dan settled in a batch of grass. Overhead stretched the branches of a tree which provided a welcome spot of shade from a sun that was still appallingly hot. He crossed his legs, twisted the lid from his water bottle and took in the scene around him. The students from Morningside were scattered amongst the other preserve patrons, some occupying picnic tables while others strolled about the nearby grounds. Thankfully they seemed to be avoiding the wooded thicket in the distance, in accordance with Sue’s instructions. And, true to her prediction, a few of them were in fact scribbling in notebooks or paging through their copies of Gatsby. Still, several more were posing for selfies and taking photos of the scenery, no doubt posting them to Instagram with Kyle’s hashtag. 

Too curious for his own good, Dan took out his own phone to confirm the same. Flipping through the load of highly curated posts, he found himself shaking his head in bemused disbelief. 

Moving on, he opened his takeaway container and delved into his food, starting with the tamale. He kept his phone in his other hand, swiping over to his email and checking some new messages. 

A familiar deep voice captured his attention. “Care for a bit of company?” 

Dan looked up and then up again. Kyle was impossibly tall from this angle. “Modest accommodations,” Dan replied with a shrug. “Couldn’t find a proper seat.” 

Kyle removed his backpack and placed it at his feet. His eyes scanned the park, finally landing on Dan. “Seems like the best spot in the whole place.” 

Dan blinked and felt some of his uneasiness lift at Kyle’s words. At a loss for an appropriate response, he let Kyle’s comment linger in the space between them. Thankfully, Kyle didn’t seem to think twice about it and sat alongside Dan. He reached for his bag and as he pulled the zipper, grinned. “Feels like it’s going really well today. Can’t believe how easily this came together.” 

Though he hated himself a bit for it, Dan tensed and struggled not to show his frustrations. The field trip had been something he’d fairly obsessed over, so eager was he for it to be a success. He’d spent hours charting the course of this day, hours combing through the novel, trying to make it as accessible and interesting to the students as possible. 

“I wouldn’t say it came together easily.” He could hear how bitter he sounded, but Dan was powerless to stop it. “Unfortunately, I had to study the text and come up with actual lessons instead of simply watching the film and charming the wits out of the kids.” 

Elbow deep into his backpack, Kyle froze. A tense moment passed and his posture deflated into a slouch. His voice was soft as he spoke. “Is that really what you think? That I didn’t care enough to put any time or effort into this?” 

Shocked that he had the ability to actually wound Kyle, Dan drew a quick breath. Thankful that they were both wearing sunglasses, he squeezed his eyes shut and searched his brain for the right thing to say. In the end, he decided to be truthful. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think. I can’t figure you out.” 

Kyle said nothing and Dan began to panic, his words rushing out in a flood. 

“I, I, it’s just, fuck. I just envy you. Watching you today, it looks like everything falls into place for you without you even having to try. The kids adore you, they hang on your words. I checked my phone just now and they’re all using your ridiculous hashtag. I could never—” 

“How do you reckon I came up with that hashtag? Think I just chanced upon it? Or perhaps maybe, I opened the book and reread it?” 

Dan felt his mouth drop open and struggled to repair the damage he’d caused. “Kyle, I—” 

“You needn’t spend any time envying me, I assure you.” Kyle turned his neck and faced Dan. “I might not let on, but I have to put in the work for _everything_ I do. If you knew me at all, you’d understand that.” 

Dan paused and considered the absolute validity of what Kyle was saying. He had let his imagination, his inclination towards the dramatics cloud his visions of who Kyle was. 

“You, you’re right. I made assumptions.” Dan managed. “I was being a dick and I’m sorry.” 

Kyle tilted his head and appeared to be waiting for something more. Dan supposed he was correct about that as well. After his behavior, he did owe Kyle at least a partial truth, if not an outward declaration. 

“I don’t know you, but I’d…” Dan pushed through his nerves. “But I’d really like to. Forgive me?” 

Kyle directed his attention back to the contents of his bag and Dan’s heart sank. He had fucked everything up. He had ruined— 

“Let’s begin again,” Kyle said. He pulled his hand out of the backpack and held up an offering to Dan. Upon seeing it, Dan’s laugh was an equal mixture of relief and amusement. Kyle rewarded him with a wide grin. “I was hoping to find a Fruit Shoot for nostalgia's sake, but Capri Suns will have to do.” 

Dan accepted the drink and focused on inserting the tiny plastic straw into the container. “Where’d you even find this?” 

“There’s a guy over yonder selling them. Only seemed somewhat dodgy, so I thought I’d take a chance.” 

“Death by Capri Sun, what a way to go.” 

“Poetic, yeah?” Kyle lifted an eyebrow as he sipped. 

“Pretty sure that’s how Keats went. Either fruit drink poisoning or tuberculosis. Hard to say which.” 

In the distance, a group of students broke into laughter. “See?” Kyle nodded. “I was right about that, too. They’re having a good time today.” 

“You really think so?” 

“I do. You shouldn’t worry so much.” 

Dan tried not to snort at that. He shouldn’t worry so much? Kyle might as well ask him to stop breathing. As if Dan could control any of it. 

Kyle continued to study the students. “Also, I think those two fancy one another.” 

“Which two?” 

“Dakota from your class and Avery from mine. Every time I turn around, I see them together, doing that thing where they’re _not_ -touching, but somehow touching.” 

Dan glanced down to where Kyle’s elbow was just sort of grazing him, causing the slightest amount of contact. He swallowed. “Um. Are they? I hadn’t noticed. But then, I’m terrible at those sort of things.” 

Kyle looked his way for a moment before reaching for his bag again. “Right, so I have something to show you.” 

Dan’s heart began to hammer in his chest. He shifted and hoped he appeared calmer than he felt. 

Kyle held up a small, battered copy of  The Great Gatsby. 

“You’re like Mary bloody Poppins with that bag of yours.” Dan leaned over, placing a hand on Kyle’s forearm as he attempted to look inside the backpack. “What else have you got hidden in there?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Kyle said and lifted the right side of his mouth in a half smile. He tapped the top of Dan’s hand with the book. “Here, take it.” 

Dan turned his palm over and grasped the well worn paperback. He opened it and flipped through it. Many of the pages had their corners folded down, tons of paragraphs were underlined and there were notes scribbled in the margins throughout the entire book. 

“This is how I spent the weekend,” Kyle explained. Dan glanced up and saw that Kyle seemed faintly embarrassed. “I started before then, obviously, but went through it again after I left your flat on Friday.” 

Shame flooded Dan’s body for his earlier judgement. “Kyle, I’m such a knob, I should’ve—” 

“S’alright,” Kyle shrugged. “You didn’t know. Now you do.” 

Dan longed to read every page of the book. He wanted to see every observation Kyle made, to find what it was that drew him in, what captured his attention, but knew now wasn’t the time for it. It was some sadness that he closed it and reached to return it. 

Kyle shook his head. “So I know that you love books. This one isn’t anything special, just a beat up copy, but you can keep it if you’d like.” 

“I’d love that— as long as you’re sure.” Dan was trying, _really_ trying to keep from breaking into song, so pleased was he with the offering. 

“I’m sure. Just, you know, go easy on me. I’m no English teacher, so my notes are probably not up to the standard you’re used to.” 

Fuck not breaking into song. Now Dan was doing everything he could to keep from leaning over and kissing the uncertainty off of Kyle’s wonderful face. He reminded himself of where they currently sat and who they were around. While Morningside Progressive Academy was certainly — true to its name — progressive, he strongly doubted that everyone would approve of two of its instructors making out on a school sanctioned field trip. On the other hand, there was a strong chance Kyle’s hashtag would go viral as the kids would likely post the absolute fuck out of a moment like that. 

“I can promise you that this is now my favorite copy of this book,” Dan smiled. “And that whatever you’ve written is more than up to standard.” 

Kyle’s teeth flashed as he grinned. “You say that now. I should warn you that Fitzgerald uses a particular verb in a manner that is, uh, shall we say, not exactly in keeping with the way we typically use it now. I might’ve had some thoughts about that.” 

Dan reflected for a moment. “Please tell me it’s not the verb I think it is...” 

Kyle took a quick glance around them before clearing his throat. “And I quote—” 

Dan groaned. “God, please don’t, there’s no need—” 

“And I _quote_ , ‘I ejaculated an unrestrained “Huh!” and he must have heard me for he went on nervously.’” Kyle’s eyes grew wide in animation. “Who says that? You’re the poet, explain to me why F. Scott didn’t use one of the other billion words that would’ve worked better.” 

Dan made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “As soon as I saw it, I hoped every student I taught this book to would just skip over it. It’s much more appropriate for Woody’s health class.” 

“I forgot he had to cover that!” Kyle’s eyebrows lifted up over the top of his sunglasses in amusement. “Oh, that is _brilliant_.” 

“He was telling me about it Saturday when we went out for drinks. Said that he has to teach Sex Ed soon. Was trying desperately to talk me into subbing for him.” 

“Wait. You lot went out again? Where was my invite?” Kyle sounded as if he was joking, but Dan wondered if maybe there was more to it. 

“Oh. Well, just figured you were busy with something else. Maybe had plans with Charlie, dunno.” The Charlie bit was a cheap dig, but Dan couldn’t resist. It wasn’t as if he could tell Kyle the truth about any of it. _I was too sad to even put on trousers after our disastrous maybe-date._

__“I don’t do everything with Charlie, you know. We do lead our own separate lives.”_ _

__Dan snorted. “Is that right? Because yeah….”_ _

__Kyle laughed in surprise. “Listen to you! That’s it, give me back my things. I don’t have to take this from you.”_ _

__“I don’t know what you mean,” Dan played along as he took a deliberate sip from his Capri Sun. “What things? And I was merely making the observation that you and Charlie are—”_ _

__“What things, he says. What things.” Kyle shook his head. “For starters, the drink you’re so innocently slurping on. The priceless book I just gave you. The bracelet on your wrist. The list goes on and on, really.”_ _

__“I have a strict no returns policy. Did you miss the fine print?” Dan sighed theatrically. “Such a shame. But rules are rules.”_ _

__Kyle rolled his eyes dramatically, then snapped his fingers to indicate that he’d just gotten an idea. “You know what? Show me a poem and we’ll call it even.”_ _

__“What? I’m just supposed to bare my soul for you? How is that in any way ‘even’?”_ _

__“Tell you what,” Kyle rested his forearms on his knees and kept his head turned towards Dan. “I’ve got a gig coming up in a couple of weeks. Just me, my keyboard and my bared soul. Come and see for yourself.”_ _

__Dan’s head swarmed with images of Kyle standing on a stage in a dark room, his skin glowing from the stage lights. “Just you? But what about— won’t Charlie be up on stage with you?”_ _

__“Solo gig. So I definitely need all the support I can get. What do you think?”_ _

__Dan thought many, many things—none of which were appropriate to lend a voice to while they were fairly surrounded by their students. He cleared his throat. “Of course I’ll come. Just send me the details later, but yeah. Of course.”_ _

__“Fantastic,” Kyle grinned. “Now what about the poem? Come on then, fair is fair.”_ _

__Dan considered it and found Kyle was right. The thought of sharing his work was still slightly terrifying, but he trusted that Kyle would be a kind audience. “Alright,” Dan agreed. “I’ll send you something.”_ _

__Kyle quirked one eyebrow now, suspicious. “When?”_ _

__Dan exhaled. “Tonight.”_ _

__Kyle nodded once and then held his drink in the air. “Cheers to that?”_ _

__Dan smiled and tapped his drink against Kyle’s. “Cheers to that.”_ _

__Side by side, they sipped their Capri Suns in comfortable silence._ _

__

____

\- - - 

After the conclusion of their preserve visit, Dan reclaimed his seat at the front of the bus. As the students climbed aboard and walked down the aisle, he silently counted their heads to ensure no one was being left behind. The calmness he currently felt contrasted sharply with the anxiety that had gripped him so tightly on the drive in. The completion of the trip and his chat with Kyle had gone a long way to soothe his nerves. Kyle was right—the day was a success. Dan could see that now as he heard the excited chatter of the students.

He felt a hand lightly clasp his shoulder and looked up to find Kyle. “See you on the other side,” Kyle grinned as he went to resume his post in the last row. 

Confident that the correct amount of students had loaded the bus and no one had been forgotten, Dan relaxed. He reached into his backpack and his fingers landed on Kyle’s book. Dan thumbed it open as if it were no big deal—just an English teacher reviewing the text before he spoke of it to his class. He definitely wasn’t turning through the pages dizzy with joy at all the notes and markings that Kyle had made. 

Kyle’s handwriting was surprisingly meticulous and filled the margins of practically every page. It was evident that he’d dove deeply into the story and found much to say. And God, Dan wanted to read it _all_ , wanted to examine each word for clues as to what went on inside of that wondrous head of Kyle’s. Dan knew that much could be gleaned from a reader’s reaction to a story. He felt sure that Kyle had left him breadcrumbs and if Dan could just follow their trail, it would lead him home. 

The idea of home reminded Dan of the remarks he’d prepared for when the bus crossed the Queensboro Bridge. He easily located the passage in Kyle’s book. The corner of the page was turned down, the paragraphs surrounded by a bracket and Kyle had underlined one particular sentence with a heavy hand. Next to it, he’d written “Life goal update: cross this bridge & accept that anything and everything awaits.”

Dan brought his hand up to hide the enormous smile that exploded upon reading Kyle’s note. Fitzgerald’s words in that section were easily Dan’s favorite—they were what truly made The Great Gatsby great. He’d read them countless times, never imagining that one day, he’d actually experience the scene for himself. He glanced out the window and saw they were approaching the bridge and knew he was only seconds away from seeing the very thing he’d only read of before. 

Unable to remain silent, he turned sideways and waved to gain everyone’s attention. Dan no longer cared if the students found him stuffy or boring when compared to Kyle. He’d waited for this moment for too long, worked too hard to get here, to have it pass him by.

“So those of you in my class might have noticed that I love books.” The bus filled with a few scattered giggles at his proclamation. Dan felt his mouth grow dry and swallowed as every eye on the bus fixed upon him. He saw a few of his students nod and grin at his opening remark. “Each and every time I read, I keep an eye out for a handful of sentences that capture what the book is truly about. Sometimes they can be found at the start, sometimes at the close, sometimes they’re hidden in the middle, but they’re always there, just waiting to be discovered.”

Dan glanced over his shoulder as the bus began to ascend the entrance ramp to the bridge, its brick towers and yellow metal girders looming ahead. A moment later the bus was traversing the impressive span, high above the East River and Roosevelt Island, with the skyscrapers and other tall buildings of Manhattan stretching out beyond them. 

He opened Kyle’s book and began to read, “The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty of the world.”

Dan looked up at the faces in front of him. For the first time of the day, everyone was silent as they seemed to be considering the passage. 

He took a breath and continued. “Many of you are from this city; many of you were born here.” He gestured to the window and a few students turned to stare at what was just outside the bus. “Perhaps you’ve seen this view, driven over this bridge, a million times before. Lovely as it is, this might not be the particular thing that encompasses the city for you. Your Queensboro Bridge could be something else, could be _anything_ else, really. It’s entirely up to you. I’m certain that there’s a place that comes to mind when you think of what makes the city everything that it is. For those of you in my class, that’s what I’d like you to focus on for this week’s free-writing assignment. I’d like to know where you go when you see the city.”

He watched as everyone appeared to be taking his request seriously and thought about what he was asking. A few of them had taken out their notebooks, ostensibly to jot down instructions and/or ideas; others typed on their phones but were still giving Dan their attention. 

As the bus moved across the bridge and journeyed to the other side, Dan picked the novel up again and read, “‘Anything can happen now that we’ve slid over this bridge,’ I thought; ‘anything at all.’”

Dan lifted his eyes from the book and skimmed over the multitude of faces that were turned in his direction. Their names flickered and registered as he glanced past them: Sue, who gave him a supportive nod, Dakota and Avery who were sharing a seat and looking quite pleased about it. Dan looked past each of them and settled on the familiar dark eyes of the person who sat on the very last row. 

He found Kyle, who was the furthest away but certainly felt like the closest. Kyle’s eyebrows were lowered in concentration, but lifted as he met Dan’s stare. It felt as if they were the only two people on the bus. For a moment, Kyle seemed reticent before the corners of his mouth twitched up in what was almost a shy smile.

Kyle reached down and then held his phone up. He gave Dan a pointed nod and Dan watched as Kyle texted. Kyle glanced up from his screen to Dan as he did so, leaving little doubt that Kyle was trying to communicate something specifically to him. Dan’s pulse thudded in his ears and he wondered what was of such importance that it couldn’t wait until they got back to campus.

Dan felt his phone vibrate and raised an eyebrow at Kyle before he checked it. Kyle nodded in response. Glancing down, Dan scanned Kyle’s message:

_not every day you get to achieve a life goal, but here we are_

Afraid that the contents of his chest were being displayed across his face, Dan only allowed himself a quick gaze back to Kyle. Dan let his guard down for just an instant and made no attempt to hide his smile from Kyle. 

Dan turned back, sank into his seat and watched the city from his window with a newfound joy.

Anything _could_ happen; anything at all.

\- - - - 

That night, Dan sat on his living room sofa, his notebooks strewn beside him.

Kyle had asked to see a poem, so naturally he was utterly obsessing over which one to send. 

He glanced wearily at his phone, lamenting that it was the middle of the night back home and therefore he couldn’t harass Ralph into helping him choose. 

Looking through his notebooks yet again, a short verse he’d written a few weeks back kept sticking out. 

_You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve  
And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground  
Dig them up; let's finish what we've started  
Dig them up, so nothing's left untouched_

This drivel had flowed out of his brain shortly after learning that Kyle is new to teaching, and hearing the other man explain the situation so calmly and plainly. 

Now, the two of them having further discussed their (well, Dan’s, mostly) shortcomings that afternoon, it occurred to him that he might add to it.

He thought about the frankness of their conversation and Kyle’s complete and total acceptance of him, and his curiosity about the other details of his life Kyle might be inclined to share, imperfections and all. Following a moment of contemplation, he wrote: 

_All of your flaws and all of my flaws,  
When they have been exhumed  
We'll see that we need them to be who we are  
Without them we'd be doomed_

_All of your flaws and all of my flaws  
They lie there hand in hand  
Ones we've inherited, ones that we learned  
They pass from man to man_

Chewing the end of his pen, Dan contemplated the possibility that sending this one to Kyle might come across too strong. 

At the very least, it was a fuck of a lot less direct than the other one about writing someone down because you’re obsessed with them. Not to mention quite a bit less dramatic and self-loathing than the one about someone haunting him. 

Closing his eyes for a minute, Dan quickly reviewed everything significant that had happened between him and Kyle - the easy amicability of their initial conversations, Kyle giving him a bracelet right off his wrist, their impromptu accidental engagement photo shoot, Kyle’s initiation of a cuddle session during the film viewing, their meaningful silent exchange on the Queensboro bridge...

Maybe he’d misread all these signs. Maybe whatever was going on between Kyle and Charlie really would stand in his way. 

But there was only one way to find out. 

He opened his eyes, exhaling a pensive breath. A sudden hankering for fruit punch in a pouch overcame him but he tried to focus on the task at hand. 

Hoping that his handwriting was legible, he carefully took a photo of the page and texted it to Kyle. 

Anything _could_ happen; anything at all.


End file.
